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university  of 

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libraries 


BOOK    396.P162   c.  1 

PAINE    #    UNMARRIES    WOMAN    BV    ELIZA 

CHESTER 


3  T153  001235flfl  fl 


THE 


UNMARRIED   WOMAN 


THE 


UNMARRIED    WOMAN 


BY 


ELIZA    CHESTER 

AUTHOR    OK    "CHATS   WITH    GIRLS   ON    SELF-CULTURE  ' 
''GIRLS    AND    WOMEN,"    ETC. 


¥ 


NEW   YORK 

DODD,    MEAD    AND    COMPANY 

1S92 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  Uodd,  Mead  and  Company. 

All  rights  reserved. 

55*X 


SBtotocrsttg  ^rrs*: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Choice      .     '. i 

II.  Literary  Portraiture  of  the  Unmarried 

Woman 24 

III.  The  Reality 45 

IV.  Dependence 74 

V.     Freedom 89 

VI.  Problems  and  Opportunities  ....  102 

VII.     Success 113 

VIII.     Intellectual  Women 123 

IX.     Business  Women 140 

X.     The  Home  Instinct 147 

XI.    The  Love  of  Children 165 

XII.     Friends 1S3 

XIII.  Youth  and  Age 204 

XIV.  Co-operation 226 

XV.     Character 241 


THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN 


I. 

CHOICE. 


NOT  long  ago  a  distinguished  Rabbi  in  one  of  our 
Eastern  cities  preached  a  sermon  on  the  duty 
of  marriage.  He  gave  no  quarter  to  men,  but  he  kindly 
said  that  women  were  not  always  to  be  blamed  for 
leading  a  single  life,  since  some  of  them  probably  never 
had  an  opportunity  to  be  married.  A  genial  writer, 
looking  at  life  at  a  somewhat  different  angle,  refers 
somewhere  to  those  years  during  which  a  woman  never 
meets  an  unmarried  man  without  having  his  monosyl- 
lable ready  for  him.  Both  these  men  have  clear  brains, 
large  hearts,  and  a  wide  experience  of  human  nature ; 
but  does  either  of  them  do  full  justice  to  the  unmar- 
ried woman? 

Such  judgments  cannot  be  ignored,  however  irritating 
they  may  be,  —  perhaps  especially  so  to  high-minded 
women ;  for  any  current  opinion  must  be  allowed  its 
due  weight  when  we  are  trying  to  find  out  the  exact 


2  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

truth  about  a  subject,  and  particularly  when  we  wish 
to  make  a  just  estimate  of  character. 

A  facetious  old  gentleman,  addressing  a  girls'  school, 
once  made  the  following  atrocious  joke  :  "  Young  la- 
dies," he  said,  "  you  learn  many  things  at  school,  — 
mathematics  and  history  and  music.  You  learn  to 
decline  many  nouns ;  but  there  is  one  noun  no  young 
lady  ever  learned  to  decline,  —  that  is,   matrimony." 

A  hush  fell  on  the  school,  and  after  the  departure 
of  the  old  gentleman,  the  principal  —  an  extremely 
shrewd  widow  lady,  who  read  her  fellow-beings  like 
an  open  book  —  made  her  own  speech.  "  Young  la- 
dies," she  said,  "  I  suppose  that  of  all  the  interesting 
and  valuable  things  our  visitor  told  us  this  morning, 
nothing  has  excited  so  much  comment,  and  is  so  likely 
to  be  remembered,  as  his  unfortunately  foolish  remark 
about  matrimony.  For  the  sake  of  a  joke,  he  has  made 
a  completely  false  statement.  The  truth  is  that  probably 
no  woman,  rich  or  poor,  beautiful  or  plain,  ever  yet 
reached  the  age  of  thirty  without  having  some  oppor- 
tunity to  marry.  But  every  sensible  woman  would 
rather  lead  a  single  life  than  to  bind  herself  to  any 
man  whom   she  does  not  both  respect  and  love." 

As  there  is  no  means  of  taking  enough  testimony 
to  establish  either  of  these  opposing  views,  it  would  be 
presumptuous  to  say  that  every  woman  does  have  the 
choice  of  what  her  life  shall  be.     If  she  does  not,  of 


CHOICE.  3 

course  she  can  have  no  duty.  But  surely  a  woman  in 
the  position  of  this  principal  is  much  more  likely  to 
know  the  truth  than  any  man ;  for  she  cannot  possibly 
escape  a  thousand  confidences  from  younger  women. 

Nevertheless  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that 
many  a  woman,-  even  many  an  attractive  and  lovely 
woman,  is  so  hedged  in  by  circumstances  that  the 
choice  is  never  set  before  her.  I  think  we  must  cer- 
tainly admit  this  in  any  section  of  the  country  like 
Massachusetts,  where  women  largely  outnumber  men. 
In  many  more  cases,  where  it  is  not  literally  true  that 
a  woman  has  no  chance  to  marry,  it  is  practically  so 
because  of  the  quality  of  her  chances.  For  instance, 
there  is  an  authentic  joke,  often  told  in  an  ancient 
New  Hampshire  town,  to  this  effect :  Once  upon  a 
time  there  lived  within  the  borders  of  the  town  a  fine 
young  lady,  who  had  all  the  gifts  and  graces.  She  was 
a  tall,  good-looking  girl,  with  superb  health,  a  sweet 
temper,  a  wise  and  well-stored  mind.  She  was  thor- 
oughly trained  in  every  domestic  art.  She  could  bake 
and  brew,  and  knit  and  sew,  and  wash  and  iron,  and 
watch  with  the  sick  and  entertain  company.  More- 
over, she  had  six  sisters  exactly  like  her  as  far  as  all  the 
virtues  went,  though  each  of  the  seven  had  sufficient 
individuality  to  preserve  the  family  from  any  suspicion 
of  dulness.  This  young  lady  one  day  received  a  letter 
from  a  gentleman  who,  after  setting  forth  his  own  eli- 


4  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

gibilitv  as  well  as  he  was  able,  and  describing  warmly 
his  appreciation  of  her  excellent  qualities,  concluded 
with  an  offer  of  marriage,  supplemented  by  this  unique 
suggestion  :  "  If  for  any  reason  you  do  not  yourself  look 
favourably  on  my  suit,  or  if  your  affections  are  pre- 
engaged,  will  you  kindly  pass  on  this  letter  to  any  one  of 
your  sisters  who  may  seem  to  be  inclined  to  accept  my 
proposals?"  Now,  it  certainly  cannot  be  said  that  any 
one  of  those  seven  sisters  lived  and  died  unmarried 
from  necessitv,  yet  it  can  hardly  be  claimed  that  the 
letter  gave  large  latitude  of  choice  to  the  recipients 
of  the   offer. 

But  to  speak  more  seriously,  there  are  probably  very 
few  women  who  begin  life  with  a  clear  decision  never  to 
be  married.  Some,  it  is  true,  care  so  intensely  for  free- 
dom that  they  cannot  even  entertain  the  idea  of  bonds 
of  any  kind.  Still  such  women  often  yield  to  the  spell 
of  love,  as  was  the  case  with  a  well-known  literary 
woman,  who  told  me  that  her  unwillingness  to  resign 
her  freedom  made  her  delay  her  marriage  a  whole  year. 
"  Now,"  she  added,  "  I  have  been  married  fifteen  years, 
and  I  have  been  so  happy  that  I  have  never  ceased 
to  regret  that  one  miserable  year,  when  I  fancied  that 
I  was  happier  than  I  should  ever  be   again." 

A  few  women  realize  at  the  outset  that  marriage  is 
not  for  them.     They  know  there  is  some  fatal  impedi- 


CHOICE.  5 

ment  in  their  case  to  any  worthy  marriage.  P< 
there  is  a  strain  of  insanity  in  the  family,  or  some  dis- 
ease which  they  dare  not  transmit  to  others.  Son,' 
an  imperative  duty  to  be  done  which  will  leave  them 
no  strength  nor  time  for  new  ties.  Now  and  then,  one 
like  Mercy  in  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  when  wooed  by  Mr. 
Brisk,  will  not  "  agree  "  with  any  one  who  does  not  like 
her  "  conditions."    Some  —  but  these  are  exceedingly  few 

—  recognize  those  characteristics  in  themselves  which, 
disregarded,  make  marriage  a  constant  irritation  to  both 
husband  and  wife,  and  lead  to  the  ruin  of  the  children. 
Still  others  —  and  this  number   is   probably  very  large 

—  see  on  the  threshold  of  life  that  they  have  not  been 
placed  in  a  natural  environment,  that  their  tastes  and 
feelings  lift  them  above  their  habitual  associates,  while 
their  opportunities  for  growth  and  culture  have  been 
too  limited  to  fit  them  for  a  place  in  other  circles. 
Like  Glory  in  "  Faith  Gartney,"  they  see  "  lots  of  good 
times,"  but  they  are  never  "  in  'em."  Their  conviction 
that  marriage  is  not  for  them  ripens  very  early. 

But  most  women  who  look  forward  at  all  expect  to 
be  married.  If  they  are  women  of  noble  character, 
they  do  not  mean  to  marry  until  they  at  least  believe 
that  the  actual  marriage  will  be  ideal.  It  is  not  in  her 
teens  that  *a  girl  learns  that  ideal  marriages  are  not  very 
common.  .It  is  sometimes  many  years  before  experience 
teaches  a  woman  that  her  dream  is  not  to  be  fulfilled. 


6  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

In  the  mean  time  circumstances  are  often  leading 
her  very  far  away  from  the  goal  she  expected  to  reach 
without  any  guidance  of  her  footsteps  thither.  Was 
it  not  Clara  Louise  Kellogg  who,  at  thirty,  answered 
one  eager  inquirer  as  to  the  reason  she  was  still  un- 
married, "I  have  never  had  time  to  fall  in  love"  ?  A 
woman  who  has  a  great  art  is  often  so  absorbed  in 
it  that  she  does  not  realize  how  the  years  are  flying. 
Intellectual  women,  too,  have  their  minds  so  crowded 
that  they  sometimes  forget  that  the  mind  is  not  the 
whole  woman.  But  the  women  who  have  least  time 
to  think  of  marriage  are  those  who  earn  their  own  living 
by  intellectual  work,  especially  that  great  majority  of 
them  who  support  others  as  well  as  themselves.  Their 
brains  are  busy,  day  and  night,  and  where  is  the  place 
for  new  thoughts  to  enter  in?  With  the  very  poor 
it  is  otherwise  :  they  toil  with  their  hands,  but  their 
fancies  are   free. 

This  strenuous  middle  class  of  workers,  standing 
between  the  rich  and  poor,  furnishes  a  very  large  pro- 
portion of  our  unmarried  women ;  for  its  members 
have  definite  ideas  about  the  decencies  of  life,  and 
will  not  easily  forego  them.  Dickens,  in  one  of  his 
Christmas  stories,  tells  us  how  Trotty  Veck's  pretty 
daughter  justifies  her  marriage.  She  says  that  her 
lover  has  secured  a  piece  of  work  likely  to  last  for 
some  months ;     and    that    as    people    in    their   circum- 


CHOICE.  7 

stances  can  never  expect  to  see  much  farther  before 
them  than  that,  it  would  be  foolish  to  put  off  the 
marriage  from  year  to  year;  for  then,  she  says,  she 
should  at  last  die  without  knowing  one  happy  mo- 
ment of  a  true  woman's  life.  Her  thought  is  a  beau- 
tiful one ;  and  a  tender-hearted  woman  of  any  degree 
would  reason  in  the  same  way,  that  is  to  say,  if  she 
had  a  lover  whom  she  loved.  But  while  Margaret 
Veck,  working  with  her  hands,  is  sure  to  have  a  lover, 
the  women  I  am  speaking  of  are  too  busy  thinking 
of  other  things  to  glance  at  one.  They  may  not  be 
ambitious  or  mercenary ;  but  they  want  a  refined  home, 
neat  and  suitable  dress,  books,  pictures,  and  music. 
It  is  not  worth  while  to  sacrifice  these  for  an  ab- 
straction ;  and  naturally  they  assume  a  critical  attitude 
which  does  not  encourage  the  advance  of  any  con- 
crete lover.  Perhaps  they  do  not  choose  the  better 
part,  and  they  are  probably  unconscious  of  making  any 
choice  at  all ;  but  in  most  cases  they  are  no  doubt 
right,  for  they  do  not  make  too  great  a  demand  on 
life.  Refined  women  who  are  able  and  willing  to 
earn  their  living,  can  seldom  be  right  in  marrying 
a  man  whose  character  and  habits  will  not  insure  them 
a  refined  home.  There  are  exceptions.  Misfortune 
may  overtake  a  man,  and  reduce  him  to  the  direst 
poverty,  and  he  may  still  be  worthy  of  any  sacrifice 
a  woman    can    make    for    him.      On    the    other    hand, 


8  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

refinement  easily  slips  into  luxury.  A  woman  who 
loves  music  may  learn  to  think  that  she  cannot  live 
without  a  season-ticket  to  the  symphony  concerts  or 
a  box  at  the  opera ;  and  one  who  loves  to  be  scrupu- 
lously clean  may  catch  herself  thinking  that  impos- 
sible unless  she  has  a  fresh  white  dress  every  morning. 
Miss  Wilkins's  "  New  England  Nun "  was  uncon- 
sciously distressed  at  the  prospect  of  marrying  a  lover 
who  was  always  introducing  disorder  into  her  dainty 
sitting-room.  I  suppose  the  delicate  dividing-line  be- 
tween an  unmarried  woman,  pure  and  simple,  and  a 
genuine  old  maid,  lies  exactly  here.  To  an  old  maid 
her  own  refined  habits  are  a  little  dearer  than  any 
human  being.  Yet  how  hard  it  is  to  make  definitions. 
Think  of  the  luxurious  married  women  who  will  sacri- 
fice their  own  children  rather  than  disarrange  their 
toilette  ! 

A  girl's  marriage,  even  in  America,  depends  more  on 
her  mother's  attitude  than  is  generally  admitted.  There 
are  mothers  who  have  clear  ideas  of  the  kind  of  mar- 
riage it  is  possible  and  desirable  that  their  daughters 
should  make.  They  give  their  girls  the  training  which 
fits  them  for  such  a  marriage,  they  frown  on  all  unde- 
sirable associations,  and  foster  all  that  meet  their 
wishes.  Their  daughters  almost  always  marry  and  lead 
respectable  and  comfortable  lives.     It  is  not  so  certain 


CHOICE. 


9 


that  they  lead  lives  of  enthusiasm.  Yet  it  is  hardly 
fair  to  laugh  at  such  mothers  and  call  them  match- 
makers. They  often  know  their  children  better  than 
the  children  know  themselves,  and  it  is  very  well  that 
the  elders  should  guide  the  choice,  though  it  would  be 
intolerable  if  they  made  the  decision.  A  woman  who 
loves  her  child  must  try  to  secure  the  child's  happiness 
according  to  her  light.  If  she  is  high-minded,  and 
wishes  her  daughter  to  marry  a  noble  man,  she  will  not 
use  base  means.  If  she  wishes  to  gratify  her  ambition, 
she  cannot  use  worthy  means.  It  is,  however,  a  great 
mistake  to  let  a  girl  grow  up  with  the  idea  that  she 
will  be  sure  to  marry,  or  worse  still,  that  she  ought  to 
marry.  On  the  contrary,  pains  should  be  taken  to 
teach  her  to  choose  well  by  keeping  a  high  standard 
before  her  both  as  to  friends  and  as  to  books ;  while 
a  few  judicious  words  should  be  said  to  her  from  time 
to  time.  Unfortunately,  few  mothers  seem  to  know 
how  to  say  these  words. 

There  are  some  women  so  beautiful,  so  helpful,  so 
attractive  in  every  way  to  all  men  and  women,  and 
withal  so  loving  as  well  as  lovable,  that  their  remaining 
single  is  a  constant  mystery.  "  Among  the  many  lovers 
she  must  have  had,"  said  one  such  woman  of  another, 
"  how  is  it  possible  there  should  not  have  been  one  she 
could  love  in  return?"  There  is  often,  however,  a 
quality  in   such   women   which,   though    overlooked    by 


10  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

friends,  becomes  evident  in  very  close  relations.  They 
are  women  who  are  born  to  rule ;  their  rule  is  wise  and 
beneficent,  so  that  it  is  a  real  blessing  for  most  people 
to  be  brought  within  their  sphere.  Still  they  them- 
selves have  the  aspiring  nature  which  would  find  any 
marriage  unsatisfactory  unless  the  husband  were  also 
worthy  to  rule.  They  are  not  interested  in  any  man 
of  less  force  than  themselves.  They  think  they  could 
yield  with  delight  to  a  strong  man ;  yet  the  instinct  of 
ruling  is  so  powerful  with  them  that  those  who  are 
brought  very  near  them  always  feel  a  certain  inability  to 
resist  their  influence  ;  and  such  constraint  is  generally 
irksome  to  a  man  who  is  himself  a  natural  ruler. 
Ideally,  two  strong  natures  should  be  mutually  helpful ; 
but  it  takes  an  extraordinary  love  to  fuse  them  so  that 
they  do  not,  in  practice,  prove  antagonistic. 

Here  and  there  is  a  beautiful  woman  in  whom  there  is 
not  even  such  a  flaw,  a  woman  whose  nature  is  so  rich  in 
sympathy  that  all  must  love  her,  while  she  lavishes  love 
on  everybody  who  comes  near  her.  She  sends  away  one 
lover  after  another,  because  her  heart  is  full  of  a  more 
perfect  love  than  any  she  has  yet  felt.  So  it  was  with 
Lucy  Smith,  wife  of  the  author  of  "Thorndale,"  who 
had  left  her  youth  far  behind  her  before  she  made  her 
ideal  marriage.  No  one  ever  had  a  larger  circle  of 
loving  and  loved  friends.  No  one  ever  had  more  true 
lovers.     No  one  ever  led  a  more  cheerful,  active,  useful 


CHOICE.  II 

life.  Yet  years  later,  she  records  a  mental  struggle  of 
her  middle  age.  She  says :  "  I  never  had  any  other 
than  one  ideal  of  happiness,  — love  intensely  felt  and 
returned.  Do  those  who  really  care  for  love  care  for 
anything  else?  I  never  did.  But  I  believed  that  for 
me  that  one  ideal  was  not  intended.  My  life  had  had 
its  vicissitudes  of  feeling  and  imagination.  I  thought 
that  the  future  had  no  great  joy  for  me,  —  only  duties. 
I  desired,  I  prayed,  to  be  satisfied  without  personal 
happiness."     But  such  women  are  as  rare  as  queens. 

There  is,  in  America,  a  large  class  of  rich  women  who 
do  not  marry.  I  have  no  statistics  at  hand,  but  I  have 
seen  quite  startling  figures  of  the  taxable  property  of 
unmarried  women  in  Massachusetts.  In  this  country  a 
rich  woman  can  have  things  so  much  her  own  way  that 
the  minor  inducements  to  marry  are  wanting.  If  she  is 
very  pretty  and  vivacious,  she  will  have  a  train  of  ad- 
mirers about  her  when  she  first  makes  her  entrance 
into  society,  and  will  probably  be  carried  off  to  the 
altar  very  early  in  the  twenties.  If,  however,  she  is 
a  quiet  girl,  though  she  may  be  amiable  and  domestic 
and  intelligent  and  even  pretty,  her  sterling  qualities 
show  to  little  advantage  in  the  whirl  of  balls  and  par- 
ties, and  she  soon  ceases  to  care  much  for  ordinary 
society.  She  devotes  herself  to  study  or  to  charity  at 
about  the  time  the  young  men  of  her  set  give  them- 
selves  up    heart   and   soul   to  business.     She  becomes 


12  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

more  and  more  cultivated,  and  the  young  men  often 
become  less  and  less  interested  in  art  and  literature 
and  music  and  the  condition  of  the  poor,  as  the  years 
roll  by.  A  recent  writer  in  "  The  Nation  "  tells  us  that 
business  is  in  itself  an  education ;  it  certainly  does  in- 
crease a  man's  general  information  and  quicken  his 
intelligence ;  it  often  teaches  him  promptness  and  ac- 
curacy ;  and  there  are  men  who  keep  their  heads  erect 
in  the  midst  of  the  mad  rush  which  cannot  be  avoided 
by  any  business  man  in  this  century :  but  no  man  whose 
chief  thought  is  the  making  of  money  can  preserve  that 
temper  of  mind  which  attracts  a  woman  who  spends  her 
time  in  studying  the  great  literatures  or  in  cultivating 
the  arts.  She  finds  these  men  bore  her,  and  perhaps 
she  bores  them.  She  has  it  in  her  to  make  a  charming 
home  if  she  were  once  actually  married,  because  then 
there  would  be  vital  common  interests  between  herself 
and  her  husband ;  but  her  secondary  interests  are  not 
those  of  the  young  men  she  knows,  on  whom  she  ac- 
cordingly looks  languidly.  She  does  not  see  men  of 
any  other  class,  and  if  she  did,  she  could  hardly-  avoid 
painful  suspicions  that  attentions  from  them  might  mean 
fortune-hunting ;  and  so,  though  she  does  not  absolutely 
choose  a  single  life,  she  virtually  sets  herself  apart  by 
the  time  she  is  twenty-five. 

All  women  know  other  women  of  this  stamp,  whose 
characters  are  so  surpassingly  lovely  that  it  is  a  grief  to 


CHOICE. 


13 


feel  that  such  sweet  and  wise  natures  are  not   chosen 

to  be  the  centre  of  a  home.     It  takes  vigorous  wooing 

to  rouse  such  a  woman ;    but  she  is  worth  the  trouble. 

That,  however,  is  by  no  means  so  clear  to  men  as  to 

women,  for 

"  You  must  love  her  ere  to  you 
She  would  seem  worthy  of  your  love." 

Any  woman  will  tell  you  that  she  has  again  and  again 
looked  on  with  amazement  to  see  what  an  impenetrable 
veil  seems  to  hide  her  friend's  virtues  from  the  young 
men  in  the  same  circle.  We  all  at  times  echo  Betsy 
Trotwood's  lamentation  on  finding  David  Copperfield 
in  love  with  Dora  instead  of  with  Agnes :  "  Blind, 
blind,  blind." 

Sometimes,  however,  it  must  be  owned  that  a  rich 
woman  is  so  wedded  to  the  conventionalities  of  her 
own  narrow  circle  that  she  is  incapable  of  loving  any- 
body,—  like  the  unimpeachable  "Miss  Brooks"  of  a 
late  novel,  who  preferred  breaking  with  her  honest  lover 
to  a  marriage  which  would  exile  her  from  Boston. 

Miss  Brooks's  great  interest  was  in  afternoon  teas ; 
but  there  are  other  women  who  are  so  full  of  plans  and 
projects  that  they  have  no  time  to  think  of  anything 
so  commonplace  as  love.  There  was  Madame  de 
Montesson's  sister-in-law  who  did  n't  want  to  marry 
and  would  n't  be  a  nun  because  she  "  was  so  interested 
in   prisons."       Others  devote   themselves  to  philosophy 


14  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

or  art.  Mrs.  Phelps-Ward  has  presented  their  side 
both  in  the  "  Story  of  Avis "  and  in  "  Dr.  Zay," 
though  both  of  her  heroines  marry.  Neither  yielded 
easily  to  love,  and  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  the 
master-passion  with  either;  fur  the  life  of  Avis  was 
wrecked  because  her  husband  did  not  recognize  the 
paramount  claims  of  her  genius,  while  the  happiness 
of  Dr.  Zay  seemed  to  depend  on  her  husband's  con- 
tentment with  a  secondary  place.  Most  women  who 
read  the  books  sympathize  with  the  heroines ;  but  it 
is  a  suggestive  fact  that  men,  even  the  most  unselfish 
of  men,  do  not. 

Some  women  miss  marriage  through  a  morbid  tem- 
perament. Lions  stand  guard  over  every  way.  "  I 
have  been  reading  a  ridiculous  book,"  said  a  wise 
mother,  a  few  days  ago,  "  and  I  told  my  girls  that  I 
hoped  none  of  them  would  ever  be  guilty  of  such  idiocy 
as  the  heroine  showed.  She  was  in  debt  for  her  edu- 
cation ;  she  kept  her  terrible  secret  from  everybody, 
even  from  her  lover,  whom  she  refused  on  account  of 
it.  He  was  made  to  believe  that  an  insuperable  ob- 
stacle stood  in  the  way  of  the  marriage." 

Now  it  cannot  be  denied  that  a  debt  would  be  an 
insuperable  obstacle  in  the  eyes  of  some  men.  They 
would  decline  either  to  wait  for  the  girl  or  to  help  her 
to  pay  her  debt.  The  heroine  probably  distrusted  her 
lover,  though  perhaps  only  by  distrusting    herself.     My 


CHOICE. 


15 


friend  had  no  patience  with  that,  though  a  great  many 
unmarried  women  will  understand  it.  My  friend  is 
a  woman  of  ardent  and  vigorous  nature,  who  be- 
lieves in  no  obstacles.  When  she  feels  that  her  aim 
is  a  worthy  one,  —  and  she  usually  feels  this,  —  she 
moves  straight  forward  so  courageously  that  all  foes 
vanish  before  her.  This  temperament  is,  I  fear,  more 
common  among  married  than  among  single  women. 
My  friend  feels  that  love  is  so  great  and  ennobling  a 
passion  that  it  should  give  the  law  to  life.  She  believes 
that  nothing  should  stand  between  two  persons  who  love 
each  other.  She  thinks  that  if  she  had  been  an  outcast 
upon  the  street,  she  would  tell  her  lover  the  whole 
ghastly  story,  and  risk  all  for  the  chance  of  his  meeting 
her  fully.  As  the  most  unworldly  man  might  well  doubt 
his  right  to  give  such  a  mother  to  his  children,  and  the 
nobler  the  woman  the  less  she  would  wish  for  the  sacri- 
fice, her  dream  of  love  might  crumble  to  the  ground  in 
consequence ;  but  might  not  that  be  better  than  the 
half- love  that  would  weakly  shrink  away,  trusting  so 
little  that  the  tale  is  left  untold? 

Most  women  never  rise  to  this  level,  partly  because 
they  have  less  power  of  loving,  but  chiefly  because  they 
cannot  believe  themselves  worthy  of  a  great  sacrifice 
from  another.  Many  a  lonely  woman  would  now  be  at 
the  head  of  a  happy  home  if  she  had  not  distrusted  her 
own  power  to  make  another  happy.     Such  women  mag- 


16  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

nify  their  defects,  and  hide  themselves  morbidly  from 
society,  and  of  course  they  are  left  alone.  There  is, 
therefore,  a  certain  foundation  for  the  coarse  and  com- 
mon jests  which  presume  that  the  unloved  have  some- 
thing in  them  that  is  unlovely. 

From  my  friend's  standpoint,  marriage  becomes  a 
duty  in  a  new  sense.  It  might  be  more  painful  to  meet 
a  lover  with  a  generous  confidence  than  to  turn  timidly 
away  from  him,  and  leave  him  to  wonder  at  the  mys- 
tery ;  but  one  can  hardly  doubt  which  would  show  the 
nobler  nature.  It  is  true  few  men  can  stand  severe 
tests ;  but  my  friend  says  it  is  base  for  a  woman  to  hesi- 
tate to  stake  all,  when  the  glory  and  perfection  not  only 
of  her  own  life  but  of  her  lover's  depend  on  her  cour- 
age. It  is  easier  for  many  women  to  relinquish  happi- 
ness than  to  fight  the  battle  which  must  precede  the 
victory.  A  timid  woman  may  be  a  good  woman,  but 
she  must  not  admire  herself  for  her  timidity.  Some 
brave  women  do  fight  the  battle  and  lose,  but  they  keep 
their  self-respect. 

Of  course  all  this  refers  only  to  those  women  who 
love  and  are  loved  in  return.  And  love  itself  does  not 
always  create  the  obligation  of  marriage.  For  instance, 
a  silly  girl  of  sixteen  once  tried  to  elope  with  an  equally 
silly  young  fellow.  Her  mother  followed  and  rescued 
her.  Some  friends  were  expressing  their  gratification 
at  the  denouement,  when  a  wise  old  gentleman  startled 


CHOICE.  17 

them  by  saying,  "Why  was  it  good  to  rescue  her?  She 
loved  him."  Now,  can  we  really  think  that  the  kind  of 
love  in  this  case  deserved  much  consideration?  Grant- 
ing that  it  was  genuine,  did  not  this  old  gentleman  for 
once  fail  to  be  wise?  A  marriage  without  love  is 
hideous ;  but  it  is  not  always  those  capable  of  the  high- 
est kind  of  love  who  believe  that  love  alone  is  enough 
to  make  marriage  a  blessing.  Respect  is  quite  as  neces- 
sary, and  it  must  be  mutual.  There  must  be  sympa- 
thy of  tastes,  or  the  love  will  never  master  every-day 
dulness.  There  must  even  be  the  fulfilment  of  certain 
worldly  conditions.  A  man  and  woman  may  be  ex- 
quisitely happy  on  a  microscopic  income,  —  as  William 
and  Lucy  Smith  were  ;  but  it  could  hardly  be  right  to 
marry  without  any  income  at  all.  In  such  a  case  the 
true  solution  is  in  a  long  engagement. 

It  is  a  popular  belief  that  long  engagements  are  fatal. 
Yet  the  ideal  lovers  can  endure  the  petty  strain  of  years, 
and  ought  there  ever  to  be  an  engagement  which  does 
not  seem  ideal  when  it  is  made?  William  and  Lucy 
Smith  suffered  keenly  during  the  years  they  had  to 
wait  for  full  companionship,  but  they  also  had  keen 
happiness.  To  miss  the  best  within  reach  because 
something  else  is  out  of  reach  does  not  seem  wise. 

Yet  long  engagements  probably  do  tend  to  strand 
many  women  beyond  the  reach  of  marriage.  All  lovers 
are  not  constant,  though   there  are   heroic  exceptions, 

2 


l8  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

as  in  this  case  :  a  teacher  suddenly  announced  one  day 
to  her  associates  in  school  that  she  was  to  be  married 
the  next  week  to  a  fiance  whose  name  nobody  in  the 
region  had  ever  heard.  "Isn't  this  rather  sudden?" 
asked  a  friend.  "  It 's  a  nine  years'  engagement,"  re- 
turned the  bride-elect.     "  We  thought  it  was  n't  best  to 

mention    it,    as    Mr. had    first    to    take    a    college 

course  and  a  theological  course,  and  then  to  find  a 
field  for  work.  We  have  n't  allowed  ourselves  to  think 
of  it  much,  lest  our  minds  should  be  distracted  from 
our  daily  duties.  And  now  I  try  to  keep  my  mind 
faithfully  on  my  work ;  but  positively  it  is  hard  to  feel 
exactly  the  same  interest  in  my  scholars  as  usual !  " 

I  dare  say  a  long  engagement  does  distract  less  con- 
scientious souls  from  the  daily  routine  j  so  from  this 
point  of  view  something  may  be  said  against  one.  And 
no  doubt  the  gradual  adaptation  to  the  exigencies  of 
one  kind  of  life  does  partially  unfit  anybody  for  those 
of  another.  Simply,  however,  because  she  may  be  de- 
serted after  her  bloom  has  passed  away,  the  woman  of 
finest  fibre  does  not  often  hesitate  "  to  give  and  hazard 
all  she  hath." 

There  are  those  who  look  upon  an  engagement  — 
though  a  broken  one  —  as  a  distinction  second  only  to 
marriage  itself,  and  there  are  a  few  sentimental  souls 
who  think  that  even  a  disappointment  in  love  creates 
a  halo  about  a  woman's  head.     A  friend  tells  me  that 


CHOICE.  19 

one  summer  in  a  remote  part  of  the  country,  she  was 
puzzled  by  the  awe-struck  air  of  the  natives  in  speaking 
of  certain  depressed  young  women.  "Don't  you  know," 
it  would  be  said,  "that  she  had  a  'nerly  '?  "  My  friend 
wondered  what  that  might  be.  She  had  heard  gnarled 
apples  called  "  gnerly,"  and  she  concluded  that  her  young 
acquaintances  suffered  from  some  kindred  disease.  At 
last  she  learned  that  a  "  nerly  "  was,  in  fact,  "  an  early  " 
disappointment  in  love,  and  that  such  victims  were  re- 
garded as  in  a  measure  heroines.  In  the  same  vein 
Dickens  describes  Dora's  aunts  in  "  David  Copperfield." 
The  one  who  had  once  had  a  lover  is  treated  deferen- 
tially by  her  less  favoured  sister. 

I  think  this  view  of  the  matter  is  passing  away,  at 
least  in  America.  Most  women  beyond  thirty  would  be 
very  unwilling  to  be  looked  upon  as  suffering  from  "  an 
early."  They  do  not  consider  it  either  courageous  or 
beautiful  to  let  any  personal  disappointment  destroy 
the  meaning  of  life.  And  they  know  how  often  a 
youthful  disappointment  is  directly  traceable  either  to 
their  own  fault  or  their  lover's.  If  to  their  own,  they 
are  ashamed  of  it.  If  to  their  lover's,  it  does  not  often 
take  them  ten  years  to  become  ashamed  of  having  ar- 
dently loved  so  weak  an  individual.  Of  course,  many 
women  do  still  deify  the  most  worthless  of  lost  lovers, 
just  as  married  women  do  the  most  tyrannical  and  stupid 
of  dead  husbands;   but  ten  years  of  the  independent 


20  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

life  of  American  women  does  clarify  the  vision.  Few 
sensible  women  of  thirty-five  feel  in  any  way  bound  to 
admire  and  love  a  man  simply  because  they  did  so  at 
eighteen.  Few  men  in  these  days  need  fear  that  the 
girls  they  have  jilted  will  sigh  over  them  very  long. 
The  women  have  better  things  to  do.  The  experience 
is  merely  of  use  in  teaching  them  to  measure  men. 

Nevertheless,  there  are  genuine  loves  springing  from 
the  deepest  sources,  which  meet  no  response,  or  before 
which  an  impassable  barrier  is  raised.  The  lives  of 
many  women  are  changed  —  usually  softened  and  en- 
nobled —  by  such  an  affection.  But  these  women  do 
not  wear  their  heart  on  their  sleeve.  If  their  story  is 
told  at  all,  it  is  to  give  help  to  somebody  else.  They 
accept  their  lot  in  the  spirit  of  Romney  Leigh. 

"  Having  missed  .  .  .  some  personal  hope, 
I  must  beware  the  rather  that  I  miss 
No  reasonable  duty." 

One  great  blessing  of  a  single  life  is  that  one  may 
cherish  any  genuine  love  without  finding  it  fade  into 
the  light  of  common  day.  Of  course  a  worthy  love 
should  be  able  to  bear  the  strain  of  daily  affairs,  but  it 
sometimes  fails  to  do  so.  The  unmarried  are  at  least 
saved  this.  It  is  not  single  women  who  look  on  mar- 
riage as  a  failure.  They  usually  believe  in  it  heartily, 
only  they  acknowledge  cheerfully  in  their  own  case  that 
there  is  an  impediment  to  the  right  marriage ;  and  any- 
thing lower  does  not  interest  them. 


CHOICE.  21 

But  can  marriage  ever  be  a  duty  as  well  as  a 
happiness?  So  women  have  been  taught  in  many  ages 
and  many  countries.  But  it  is  hard  to  make  an  Ameri- 
can woman  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  Puritan  descent  admit 
that.  Such  women  have  been  taught  to  feel  their  per- 
sonal responsibility  too  deeply  to  believe  that  their  in- 
dividuality ought  ever  to  be  sacrificed  to  any  ancient 
idea  that  the  race  must  be  perpetuated.  Yet  marriage 
may  be  a  duty,  if  the  impediment  to  it  is  merely  worldly. 
A  poor  man  and  woman  who  love  each  other  have  cer- 
tainly no  right  to  marry  if  their  marriage  is  to  lay 
burdens  on  other  people ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  have 
they  a  right  to  sit  down  tamely  and  bewail  the  hard 
fate  which  precludes  their  "  eating  turtle  soup  out  of  a 
gold  spoon"?  Is  it  not  a  duty  that  they  should  both 
set  themselves  at  work  to  overcome  obstacles,  and  make 
their  marriage  possible?  Will  either  live  the  highest 
life  otherwise? 

Sometimes  a  girl  lets  herself  be  laughed  out  of  a  lover. 
An  awkward  man  without  tact  tries  in  a  blundering  way  to 
commend  himself  to  a  girl  who  is  able  to  see  below  the 
surface.  She  knows  his  real  worth ;  she  even  enjoys  a 
quiet  talk  with  him  when  no  one  else  looks  on  and  criti- 
cises. She  knows  perhaps  that  she  could  be  happy  with 
him  on  a  desert  island ;  but  she  cannot  bear  the  laugh 
of  her  thoughtless  friends,  and  so  she  frowns  on  his  suit. 
Has  she  done  her  duty?    Has  she  a  right  to  yield  to  the 


22  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

weak  side  of  her  nature  in  this  way?  Gwendolen,  in 
"  Daniel  Deronda,"  thought  Grandcourt  "  not  too  ridic- 
ulous to  marry;  "  but  how  much  better  a  ridiculous  mar- 
riage would  have  been  than  the  cold-blooded,  worldly 
one  she  made  ! 

Is  there,  moreover,  any  intrinsic  reason  why  it  is  better 
to  marry  than  to  live  alone  ?  Happiness  and  virtue  are 
often  bound  up  together  in  a  strange  way.  What  is  the 
common,  every-day  effect  on  character  of  the  two  kinds 
of  life?  Must  we  not  admit  that  there  never  was  such  a 
school  for  self-forgetfulness  as  marriage?  A  dependent 
unmarried  woman  learns  the  hardest  lessons  of  self-sup- 
pression ;  an  independent  unmarried  woman,  on  the  con- 
trary, has  such  a  training  in  self-assertion  that  the  sweetest 
natures  can  hardly  keep  their  balance.  Self-assertion  is 
not  beautiful,  nor  self-suppression  either ;  but  self-forget- 
fulness is  the  very  blossom  of  character.  A  wife  or  a 
mother  sometimes  seems  positively  not  to  know  that  she 
is  sacrificing  herself,  she  is  so  caught  up  and  carried 
away  by  the  surges  of  love  in  her  heart. 

I  do  not  mean  that  there  are  not  thousands  of  selfish 
wives  and  mothers,  and  thousands  of  warm-hearted 
women  who  stand  alone ;  but  simply  that  looking  at  the 
world  as  a  whole,  the  unselfishness  of  a  married  woman 
is  most  often  woven  of  richer  threads  than  that  of  her 
single  sister.  There  may  be  less  merit  in  it,  but  it  is 
far  lovelier. 


CHOICE.  23 

Yet  what  paradoxical  folly  it  would  be  for  a  woman 
to  marry  for  the  sake  of  improving  her  character  !  How 
surely  she  would  defeat  her  own  end  !  Love  will  have 
to  give  the  unerring  law  in  the  future  as  in  the  past ; 
and  the  love  which  does  not  spring  from  a  character 
already  noble  will  not  exalt  either  the  giver  or  the  re- 
ceiver very  much.  So  the  full  ranks  of  single  women 
will  rightly  remain  unthinned  for  many  years  to  come. 


II. 

LITERARY    PORTRAITURE    OF    THE 
UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

IT  may  be  instructive  to  glance  at  the  types  of  single 
women  to  be  found  in  literature,  since  these  types 
are  often  the  foundation  for  criticism  of  actual  women, 
and  indeed  sometimes  influence  women  in  criticising 
themselves. 

The  unmarried  woman  does  not  hold  a  conspicuous 
place  in  literature.  She  is  not  often  a  theme  for  poets, 
and  all  the  interesting  heroines  of  the  novelists  are  ex- 
pected to  be  married  before  their  youth  and  grace  have 
departed.  There  is,  however,  a  notable  exception  to  this 
rule  both  in  ancient  and  mediaeval  literature  ;  for  the  idea 
seems  to  have  been  handed  down  from  the  remote  past 
that  a  woman  who  held  herself  free  from  common  ties 
had  a  peculiar  and  exalted  power.  Under  some  cir- 
cumstances, such  a  woman  became  an  object  of  almost 
religious  worship. 

Among  the  goddesses,  Diana,  though  of  lower  rank, 
is  of  more  elevated  character  than  Venus  or  Juno.  Her 
coldness  is  the  coldness  of  purity.     It  is  the  unmated 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     25 

Minerva  who  is  the  goddess  of  wisdom.  The  Parthenon 
itself,  the  most  perfect  work  of  art  ever  produced,  was 
built  in  her   honour. 

Among  earthly  women,  too,  the  ancients  have  left  us 
some  grand  portraits.  Iphigenia,  beyond  all  others, 
stands  out  in  perfect  beauty.  Her  loveliness,  her  sweet- 
ness, her  nobility,  her  courage  in  meeting  the  terrible 
fate  from  which  only  Diana  could  rescue  her,  have  made 
her  the  inspiration  of  poet  after  poet,  so  that  she  is 
scarcely  less  known  than  the  famous  Helen  herself.  She 
is  a  typical  instance  of  the  character  the  ancients  ad- 
mired in  an  unmarried  woman ;  for  she  was  so  per- 
fect a  woman  that  she  was  accounted  fit  to  be  betrothed 
to  Achilles,  the  champion  among  all  the  Greeks,  and  it 
was  in  obedience  to  a  religious  decree  alone  that  the 
marriage  did  not  take  place. 

Men  who  have  been  inclined  to  think  that  while  man 
was  made  "  for  God  only,"  woman  was  made  for  "  God 
in  him,"  have  often  been  willing  to  concede  that  a 
woman  who  does  not  marry  is  still  a  dignified  figure  if 
she  devotes  her  life  directly  to  the  service  of  religion  ; 
and  if  she  is  a  beautiful  woman  and  does  this  volun- 
tarily, relinquishing  the  earthly  with  the  clear  purpose 
of  serving  the  divine,  she  inspires  the  most  tender 
reverence. 

This  idea  was  most  powerful  during  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  women  who  lived  in  cloisters  and  spent  their  days 


26  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

in  prayer   and  good  works,  commanded  the   respect  of 

the    most   brutal.     Those   who   resisted   the  offer  of  an 

earthly  crown  to  be  the  bride  of  heaven  figure  frequently 

in  legend  as  saints.     Chaucer  is   perhaps  the  only  poet 

of  the  time  to  regard  a  nun  as  if  she  were  really  a  human 

being,  and  to  poke  a  little  harmless  fun  at  her ;  as  in  his 

Prioresse  who 

"  Sang  the  service  divyne 
Entuned  in  hir  nose  ful  semely ;" 

who  spoke  French 

"  After  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte  Bowe, 
For  French  of  Paris  was  to  hir  unknowe ; " 
who 

"  Leet  no  morsel  from  hir  lippes  falle, 
Ne  wet  hir  fingres  in  hir  sauce  deepe  ;  " 

and  whose  wimple 

"  Ful  semely  pinched  was." 

But  even  Chaucer  admires  her  as  a  gentle  and  good 
woman.     He  says  that  in  her 

"  Al  was  conscience  and  tendre  harte ;  " 

and  that  she  was 

"  Ful  plesaunt  and  amiable  of.  port, 
And  peyned  hir  to  counterfete  chere 
Of  court,  and  ben  estatlich  of  manere 
And  to  ben  holden  digne  of  reverence  ; 
But  for  to  speken  of  hir  conscience, 
She  was  so  charitable  and  pitous, 
She  wolde  wepe  if  that  she  saw  a  mous 
Caught  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  deed  or  bledde." 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.    27 

Of  the  great  mass  of  every-day  women  who  lived  lonely 
lives  outside  the  convent  walls,  no  poet  nor  historian  has 
thought  fit  to  tell  us.  A  voluntary  sacrifice,  especially 
of  wealth  and  pomp,  always  seems  heroic,  and  appeals 
to  the  imagination  even  of  a  child.  It  is  worthy  of  ad- 
miration ;  but  may  it  not  take  more  of  the  stuff  of  which 
heroes  are  made  to  bear  bravely  a  hard  and  obscure  fate 
which  we  have  not  even  had  the  pleasure  of  choosing 
for  ourselves? 

In  the  Middle  Ages  the  ascetic  idea  so  predominated 
that  it  was  thought  good  for  both  man  and  woman  to 
be  alone ;  but  this  was  by  no  means  the  Greek  idea. 
Sophocles  has  no  scruple  in  making  his  Electra  —  the 
sister  of  Iphigenia  —  lament  the  cruelty  of  her  fate  in 
being  denied  marriage,  Electra  is  a  woman  of  power 
with  no  natural  outlet  \  and  widely  different  as  she  is 
from  modern  women  in  her  environment  and  creed,  her 
kinship  with  those  whom  the  conventions  of  the  present 
day  have  restrained  from  the  right  use  of  their  powers 
is  so  marked  that  this  alone  might  stamp  Sophocles  as  a 
universal  poet. 

Electra  is  not  lovable,  and  even  Iphigenia  does  not 
win  our  affection  as  Antigone  does.  Here  Sophocles 
proves  his  consummate  understanding  of  a  large-hearted 
woman  considered  entirely  apart  from  her  relations  to  a 
lover ;  for  though  she  had  a  lover  so  devoted  that  he 
died  for  her,  she  seems  scarcely  aware  of  his  love,  being 


28  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

so  occupied  with  her  duty  to  her  father  and  brother. 
Antigone  is  of  as  heroic  mould  as  Electra  or  Iphigenia. 
Her  life  is  tragic,  and  she  is  not  allowed  to  spend  its  ful- 
ness on  husband  or  children.  Though  she  risks  death 
to  bury  her  brother,  believing  that  to  be  a  religious  duty, 
yet  her  piety  has  no  tinge  of  the  cloister.  Her  life  is 
full  to  the  brim,  because  she  spends  it  in  active  work  for 
those  nearest  and  dearest  to  her.  Her  father  needed 
her  most,  and  she  gave  to  him  without  stint.  But  she 
had  overflowing  love  and  sympathy  for  her  unfortunate 
brothers.  She  does  not  fear  even  the  tyrant  Creon, 
when  he  stands  in  the  way  of  what  she  conceives  to  be 
her  duty,  and  she  goes  courageously  to  the  living  grave 
to  which  he  adjudges  her;  though  she  says  of  her 
deed, — 

"  I  had  not  done  it  had  I  come  to  be 
A  mother  with  her  children,  —  had  not  dared, 
Though  'twere  a  hushand  dead  that  mouldered  there." 

She  is  not  unkind  even  to  her  weak  sister  Ismene ;  and 
the  sharp  words  she  says  to  her  now  and  then  are  only 
those  which  must  be  said  if  a  weak  woman  is  ever  to  be 
saved  from  her  weakness. 

How  could  Sophocles  draw  such  a  picture  unless  such 
women  lived  in  Greece  in  his  day?  Yet  Antigone  is 
like  the  highest  type  of  the  unmarried  women  of  to-day, 
and  literature  furnishes  few  pictures  at  all  resembling  her 
between  the  age  of  Sophocles  and  the  nineteenth  century. 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     29 

"  Our  Euripedes,  the  human,"  has  given  us  not  only 
a  less  satisfactory  Electra  and  the  classic  Iphigenia, 
but  in  the  "  Hecuba,"  an  interesting  study  in  Polyxena, 
who  is  offered  a  sacrifice  to  the  manes  of  Achilles.  Most 
other  Greek  poets,  like  most  later  poets,  have  ignored 
unmarried  women.  Of  course,  we  cannot  quarrel  with 
this.  In  painting  the  faithful  Andromache  as  a  com- 
forting contrast  to  the  faithless  Helen,  we  may  feel  that 
Homer  has  done  his  great  duty  toward  women,  and  we 
need  not  wish  that  he  had  interrupted  the  grand  sim- 
plicity of  his  narrative  to  give  us  pictures  of  lives  not 
partaking  of  the  common  lot. 

When  we  come  to  Dante,  we  find  the  religious  idea 
prevailing.  The  true  Beatrice  was  indeed  married ;  but 
the  Beatrice  we  know  from  the  Divine  Comedy  is  ab- 
sorbed entirely  in  love  of  the  divine.  It  seems  that 
she  represents  Dante's  ideal  woman,  though  she  is  no 
longer  on  the  earth.  This  exalted  spiritual  idea  of 
woman  is  in  keeping  with  an  age  worshipping  the 
Virgin.  Such  worship  colours  the  whole  conception  of 
Christianity  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Yet  the  Bible  does 
not  present  such  a  view  of  woman.  Mary  herself  mar- 
ries Joseph.  Jephthah's  daughter  bewails  her  fate  as 
frankly  as  Electra. 

The  Teutonic  thought  is  shown  in  the  story  of  Brun- 
hild. While  she  remains  unmarried  she  has  the  strength 
of  a  man.     Only  Siegfried,  the  greatest  of  heroes,  can 


30  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

conquer  her ;  even  he  would  have  failed  if  she  had  not 
loved  him.  It  is  the  yielding  to  love  which  robs  her  of 
her  supernatural  power.  The  acceptance  of  a  similar 
idea  by  the  French  was  no  doubt  a  vast  auxiliary  to  Joan 
of  Arc  in  leading  her  soldiers  to  victory.  Schiller,  as  a 
German,  understands  it.  The  English  do  not,  and  even 
if  we  do  not  believe  that  Shakspeare  is  responsible  for 
much  of  "  Henry  VI.,"  yet  we  must  admit  that  the  play 
shows  such  a  thought  to  be  foreign  to  the  greatest  of 
English  poets.  Spenser,  whose  affiliations  are  so  decid- 
edly with  the  Middle  Ages  that  we  can  hardly  realize 
that  he  was  a  contemporary  of  Shakspeare,  shows  us  a 
trace  of  the  same  feeling  in  Britomart,  the  lady  knight. 
Still  more  vaguely  we  find  the  same  idea  recurring  in  the 
Italian  maiden  knight,  Bradamante. 

In  the  free  Protestant  world  which  has  emancipated 
itself  from  superstition  and  asceticism,  there  is  little  left 
of  such  beliefs.  They  have  passed  so  completely  away 
from  the  modern  mind  that  their  effect  is  hardly  worth 
considering.  Perhaps  the  Romish  Church  has  always 
clung  to  them  more  or  less.  Victor  Hugo  has  made  one 
nun  —  Sister  Simplice  —  immortal,  by  a  few  strokes  of 
his  pen.  She  stakes  even  her  soul's  salvation  by  telling 
the  lie  which  saves  Jean  Valjean's  life.  But  it  is  her 
womanliness,  uniting  her  to  other  women,  which  thrills  us, 
and  not  her  devotion,  setting  her  apart.  There  has  also 
been  a  reaction  toward  mediaeval  ideas  of  late,  as  high- 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     31 

bred  girls  with  leisure  have  realized  that  they  have  a 
duty  to  the  poor.  Yet  the  women  who  devote  them- 
selves most  ardently  to  this  service  seldom  take  vows 
which  prevent  their  marriage,  and  in  books  a  heroine  of 
this  stamp  is  sure  to  be  married  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 

In  modern  literature  the  unmarried  woman  suffers 
even  more  severely  than  other  men  and  women  from 
the  so-called  realistic  tendency,  which  often  means 
only  the  absence  of  the  ideal.  The  great  masters, 
who  combine  the  real  and  the  ideal,  practically  ignore 
her.  Shakspeare  does  not  seem  to  know  that  such 
a  woman  exists.  Why  should  he?  The  complete  wo- 
man should  love  and  be  loved.  Her  fate  may  be  tragic, 
like  Ophelia's,  or  happy,  like  Miranda's ;  but  it  is  im- 
possible to  suppose  that  she  should  reach  mature  years 
and  still  be  unmarried. 

Scott,  however,  with  a  happy  blending  of  mediaeval 
and  modern  thought,  has  given  us  the  noble  picture 
of  Rebecca.  It  is  true  her  story  ends  when  her  rival, 
Rowena,  is  married  to  Ivanhoe  j  but  from  the  begin- 
ning she  has  no  hope  of  any  other  conclusion,  so  that 
she  is  a  truly  typical  unmarried  woman.  And  her 
character  is  so  vividly  portrayed  in  the  book  that  we 
feel  a  security  in  her  future.  We  know  what  her  life 
will  be  as  well  as  if  Scott  had  written  another  volume 
describing  it. 


32  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

"  '  He  to  whom  I  dedicate  my  future  life  will  be  my  com- 
forter, if  I  do  his  will,'  said  Rebecca  to  Rowena. 

'"Have  you,  then,  convents  to  one  of  which  you  mean 
to  retire  ? '  asked  Rowena. 

"'No,  lady,'  said  the  Jewess;  'but  among  our  people, 
since  the  time  of  Abraham  downwards,  have  been  women 
who  have  devoted  their  thoughts  to  Heaven  and  their  ac- 
tions to  works  of  kindness  to  men,  —  tending  the  sick,  feed- 
ing the  hungry,  and  relieving  the  distressed.  Among  these 
will  Rebecca  be  numbered.  Say  this  to  thy  lord,  should 
he  chance  to  inquire  after  the  fate  of  her  whose  life  he 
saved.'  " 

Scott  has  given  us  another  great  picture  in  "  Kenil- 
worth."  However  the  living  Queen  Elizabeth  may 
have  differed  from  her  portrait,  the  portrait  itself  is 
full  of  vitality.  The  Elizabeth  of  "  Kenilworth  "  is  a 
real  woman :  she  has  not  the  most  remote  resemblance 
to  the  Gloriana  or  the  Belphcebe  of  Spenser,  from 
the  same  model ;  but  her  faults  and  virtues  have  a 
distinct  meaning  for  other  women. 

In  general,  however,  there  is  a  sharp  descent  from 
the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  when  we  compare  the 
ancient  and  modern  types  of  single  women.  This  is 
probably  due  to  the  fact  that  single  women  are  now 
much  less  rare  than  when  every  patriarch  had  a  retinue 
of  wives ;  or  even  later,  when  no  woman  was  safe  till 
she  had  consigned  herself  to  some  husband,  however 
unsatisfactory ;  and  any  familiar  figure  is  always  in 
danger  of  becoming  contemptible. 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     33 

Most  novelists,  when  they  deign  to  describe  a  single 
woman  at  all,  make  her  absurd.  Perhaps  no  novelist 
really  thinks  that  all  the  unmarried  women  are  absurd ; 
but  he  wants  a  foil  for  his  beautiful  heroines,  and  more- 
over he  does  not  often  have  the  courage  to  leave  one 
of  his  attractive  characters  unmated  at  last,  even  when 
he  begins  his  story  with  that  idea.  The  public  will 
not  endure  that.  In  one  of  Miss  Alcott's  stories  she 
prefaces  the  last  chapter  with  — 

"  Come,  Philander,  let 's  be  a-marching, 
Each  one  now  his  true  love  searching ;" 

and  says  whimsically  (I  quote  from  memory)  that  as 
one  of  her  former  books  had  been  criticised  because 
she  wished  her  heroine  to  remain  unmarried,  as  would 
have  surely  been  the  case  in  actual  life,  she  had  resolved 
in  the  new  volume  to  find  some  mate  —  no  matter  how 
incongruous  —  for  everybody. 

Accordingly  the  typical  "  old  maid  "  has  grown  up 
in  fiction.  She  is  fussy,  odd,  plain  or  even  grotesque 
in  face  and  figure,  ill-dressed,  and  always  furtively 
looking  out  for  a  husband.  Of  course  there  are  wide 
varieties  of  this  type.  For  instance,  the  Volumnia 
of  "  Bleak  House  "  is  an  utterly  different  person  from 
the  gentle  and  almost  pathetic  Miss  Tox  of  "  Dombey 
and  Son ;  "  but  they  both  have  all  the  characteristics 
noted  above.     No  one  knew  better  than  Dickens  what 

3 


34  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

an  unmarried  woman  may  be.  The  most  beautiful  char- 
acter he  ever  described  is  Agnes  in  "  David  Copper- 
field  ;  "  and  in  spite  of  her  marriage  in  the  end,  the  part 
of  her  life  which  we  see  chiefly  is  that  lived  while  she 
supposes  she  is  never  to  be  married.  Her  devotion 
to  her  father,  her  high  trust  and  courage  in  the  midst 
of  the  plots  of  Uriah  Heep,  her  patience  with  the  exas- 
perating Mrs.  Heep,  her  charming  ways  with  the  little 
girls  she  teaches,  are  all  a  guarantee  of  what  her  whole 
life  would  have  been  if  Dora  had  lived.  They  are  the 
more  impressive  because  she  was  no  longer  a  girl,  and 
she  had  no  hope  of  a  different  life  in  the  future  to 
sustain  her.  It  would  probably  have  been  impossible 
in  real  life  for  her  to  enact  the  guardian  angel  to  David 
and  Dora  without  doing  more  harm  than  good ;  but 
we  may  let  that  pass.  In  describing  her,  Dickens  has 
shown  his  appreciation  of  a  beautiful  and  high-minded 
woman  who  had  failed  to  attract  the  man  she  loved. 
But  probably  even  the  bitterest  spinster  who  reads 
"  David  Copperfield  "  is  glad  that  the  author  used  his 
privilege,  and  by  a  few  strokes  of  his  pen  made  Agnes 
happy  in  the  end,  though  the  spinster  may  have  her 
doubts  whether  David  quite  deserved  Agnes,  and  may 
be  very  sure  that  under  the  same  circumstances  she 
would  herself  have  chosen  to  remain  single.  It  is  easy 
to  strain  a  point  in  a  book.  The  author's  fiat  goes 
forth,  and  the  heroine  is  happy.     In  reality  more  wari- 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     35 

ness  is  needed.  So,  though  we  cannot  quarrel  with  the 
characterization  of  maiden  ladies  in  books,  we  must  ask 
ourselves  whether  the  emphasis  is  truthful.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  this  unconscious  misrepresentation 
had  a  definite  and  most  undesirable  influence  on  the 
judgment  of  many  people.  Girls  hastily  conclude  that 
all  unmarried  women  are  like  Miss  Tox  or  Volumnia, 
and  that  anything  is  better  than  a  single  life.  Even 
their  fathers  and  mothers  fall  into  the  same  error,  and 
preach  the   doctrine, — 

"  Far  better  be  married  to  something 
Than  not  to  be  married  at  a'." 

Young  men  especially  speak  of  "  old  maids "  with 
a  sneer  which  it  takes  courage  to  meet.  How  much 
better  to  bear  the  burdens  of  an  ill-assorted  marriage, 
the  girl  thinks,  than  to  endure  ridicule  !  No  doubt, 
most  of  the  ridicule  is  directed  against  the  woman 
of  straw  set  up  by  the  novelists,  yet  there  are  enough 
women  of  that  sort  in  the  world  to  make  discrimination 
rather  hard. 

Most  novelists  use  unmarried  women  so  sparingly 
that  it  is  hard  to  recall  many  prominent  characters 
of  the  class.  I  asked  a  friend  who  is  a  special  student 
of  Goethe,  whom  she  considered  the  most  typical  un- 
married woman  in  his  great  portrait  gallery.  She 
replied  :  "  I  do  not  think  we  can  speak  of  Goethe's 
conception  of  the  '  unmarried  woman '  in  any  modern 


36  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

sense  of  the  term.  Goethe's  women  all  indicate  that 
their  natural  destiny  is  for  married  life.  'The  Beauti- 
ful Maiden  finds  admirers,  also  suitors,  and  probably 
at  last  a  husband.  Then  she  arrives  at  the  True,  which 
may  not  prove  to  be  the  pleasantest  possible ;  and 
if  she  is  wise,  she  will  devote  herself  to  the  Useful,  — 
attend  to  house  and  children,  and  in  this  abide.'  His 
women  are  not  considered  as  having  a  career  of  their 
own,  independent  of  man  and  of  family  life.  Modern 
as  Goethe  was,  he  did  not  anticipate  this  in  the  grand 
way  in  which  we  see  it  realized  to-day.  Clara  Barton 
and  Harriet  Hosmer  were  not  born ;  besides,  Goethe 
was  a  German,  and  his  heroines  are  inclined  to  be 
German  women.  But  having  said  this,  it  is  also  true 
that  his  heroines  are  modern  women,  with  broad  views 
and  deep  interest  in  modern  questions,  —  in  the  best 
modes  of  education,  in  economic  subjects,  industrial 
problems,  etc.,  as  these  questions  engage  the  minds 
of  women  to-day. 

"  Hilaria,  with  her  artistic  sense  and  many  other  gifts, 
secures,  as  she  deserves  (according  to  the  Goethe 
system  of  rewards),  a  good  husband.  Lydia,  skilful 
in  sewing,  quickened  by  •'  sympathetic  love,  sees  her 
scholars  increasing  a  hundred-fold,  and  a  whole  popu- 
lation of  housewives  led  on  and  stirred  up  to  exactitude 
and  elegance,'  and  marries  a  good  husband.  Hersilia, 
intellectual    and     refined,    fascinates    the    young    Felix, 


rORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN. 


37 


and  awakens  in  him  that  affection  which  a  boy  some- 
times has  for  a  noble  woman.  Goethe  does  not  say 
whom  or  when  she  married ;  but  of  course  she  would 
marry,  for  in  the  last  glimpse  we  have  of  her  she  says, 
'  It  is  lovely  to  see  one's  own  form  in  a  loving  eye.' 
Therese,  the  thrifty,  who  '  trains  children  while  Natalia 
educates  them,'  secures  the  kind  of  husband  that  a 
sensible  woman  would  desire.  Natalia,  in  some  re- 
spects the  noblest  of  all  Goethe's  heroines,  who  during 
her  whole  life  never  experienced  a  stronger  wish  than 
to  discover  the  necessities  of  others  in  order  to  relieve 
them,  who  said  that  the  love  so  often  read  of  in  books 
appeared  to  her  the  veriest  fable,  and  when  Wilhelm 
said  to  her,  <  You  have  never  loved,'  replied,  '  Never 
or  always,'  —  Natalia  probably  married  Wilhelm,  al- 
though it  is  not  so  stated.  We  cannot  speak  of  her 
as  unmarried,  because  she  certainly  will  marry.  Mignon 
and  Macaria  are  abnormal  characters. 

"  Of  course  Tasso's  lady-love  does  not  marry,  for  the 
play  is  not  carried  beyond  the  development  of  Tasso's 
affection.  Iphigenia  is  and  remains  unmarried  ;  but  she 
could  hardly  be  called  Goethe's  conception  of  an  un- 
married woman.  Probably  she  married  when  she  went 
back  to  Greece.  Ottilie,  in  'Elective  Affinities,'  would 
never  have  married  after  her  great  grief.  Goethe  fore- 
sees this,  and  that  poetic  sentiment  demands  that  she 
should  die ;  but  you  can  see  what  the  trend  of  her  life 


38  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

would  have  been  had  she  lived,  —  useful  activity  for 
others." 

Most  other  novelists  are  still  less  interested  than 
Goethe  was  in  the  development  of  the  unmarried 
woman.  I  do  not  know  that  George  Eliot  has  given 
us  any  better  example  than  that  of  the  quaint  little 
aunt  of  Mr.  Farebrother,  to  whom  Will  Ladislaw  is 
so  chivalrous  (this  being  one  of  the  traits  in  the  latter's 
character  which  make  women  stoutly  maintain  that 
he  was  worthy  of  Dorothea,  though  men  are  constantly 
surprised  that  she  should  have  cared  for  him).  She 
is  charming ;  yet  a  fresh  young  girl  does  not  want  to 
grow  into  that  quaint  little  aunt. 

In  the  Lucy  Snowe  of  "  Yillette,"  Charlotte  Bronte" 
painted  a  genuine  woman,  and  the  colours  are  not  too 
sombre  for  truth,  though  certainly  very  dark.  The 
steadfastness  and  sanity  of  a  woman  so  highly  strung 
as  Lucy  Snowe,  when  every  sensitive  nerve  became 
an  avenue  of  pain,  is  so  marvellous  and  yet  so  real  that 
we  can  only  account  for  it  by  supposing  that  the  de- 
scription was  written  with  Charlotte  Bronte's  own  blood. 
It  is  well  known  that  the  author  intended  that  Lucy 
Snowe  should  never  marry.  Her  lover  was  to  have 
gone  down  upon  the  ocean.  But  poor  old  Mr.  Bronte 
could  not  endure  such  a  tragedy,  and  to  please  him  his 
daughter  wrote  the  last  vivid  chapter,  which  leaves  the 
result  in  doubt. 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     39 

Although  unmarried  women  hold  a  subordinate  place 
in  novels  as  in  life,  and  can  seldom  vie  in  interest  with 
the  heroines  who  look  forward  to  their  wedding-day, 
there  are  certain  trustworthy  writers  of  fiction  who  draw 
their  pictures  from  life,  and  who  yet  have  the  power  of 
seeing  below  the  surface,  among  whose  minor  characters 
we  find  now  and  then  a  delightful  spinster. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  perhaps  reaches  the  high-water  mark  in 
describing  old  maids,  for  in  "  Cranford "  they  appear 
in  variety ;  and  moreover,  they  there  hold  the  place  of 
honour.  We  must  laugh  at  them,  but  we  love  them,  — 
especially  Miss  Matty.  Nevertheless,  here  is  a  curious 
trait  of  human  nature.  We  all  acknowledge  Miss  Matty 
to  be  an  exquisite  creation,  —  a  lovable,  loving,  gentle 
woman,  such  a  woman  as  children  cling  to  and  men  rev- 
erence. She  had  been  pretty,  too,  and  was  a  thorough 
lady,  in  the  sweetest  and  most  unaffected  way.  Every 
one  of  us  admires  Miss  Matty ;  yet  if  Miss  Matty  in  the 
flesh  could  have  overheard  the  sincere  encomiums  of  her 
admirers,  she  would  have  wept  hot  tears  of  mortification. 
We  all  laugh  at  her  a  little,  even  when  our  eyes  are  wet ; 
and  what  woman,  diffident  of  her  own  powers,  can 
bear  being  laughed  at  ?  And  then,  most  of  us  —  Miss 
Matty's  inferiors  —  patronize  her  a  little.  And  how  hard 
it  is  to  bear  patronage  !  No  young  woman  can  brook 
the  idea ;  and  I  doubt  if  any  girl  reading  "  Cranford  " 
ever   consciously  wished  she  could    be   like   dear    Miss 


40  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

Matty,  though  the  chances  are  she  will  never  be  half 
so  good. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  belongs  to  the  less  realistic  part  of  our 
century,  and  perhaps  we  must  allow  for  certain  exaggera- 
tions. Some  later  writers  have  succeeded  in  creating 
some  unmarried  women  who  stand  so  firmly  on  their 
feet  that  we  should  think  twice  before  laughing  at  them, 
just  as  if  they  were  real  women.  Mrs.  Oliphant  is 
particularly  happy  in  her  delineations.  Indeed,  the 
elderly  Miss  Jean  of  "  It  was  a  Lover  and  his  Lass  "  is 
so  delicious  that  I  will  venture  to  say  every  reader  of 
the  book  cares  a  hundred  times  as  much  about  her  as 
about  her  beautiful  young  sister,  attractive  as  the  latter  is 
made.  Of  course  we  laugh  at  Miss  Jean,  but  it  is  as  we 
might  laugh  at  our  favourite  friend.  There  is  "  stock  " 
in  her  character  that  prevents  our  patronizing  her.  Per- 
haps herein  lies  the  secret  which  distinguishes  the  recent 
portraiture  of  maiden  ladies  from  the  past.  Perhaps, 
too,  the  freedom  of  the  nineteenth  century  has  produced 
a  change  in  the  women  themselves  corresponding  to  the 
change  in  the  literature  referring  to  them.  Formerly 
they  were  either  hard  or  sentimental,  if  we  may  trust  the 
novelists.  Now  their  cup  may  be  brimful  of  sentiment, 
but  they  hold  it  with  a  firm  hand. 

An  exception  to  this  generalization  must  be  made  in 
favour  of  Miss'  Bremer,  herself  a  single  woman  living  in 
a  land  of  free  and  simple  habits.     For  before  the  middle 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     41 

of  this  century  she  had  already  crowded  her  canvases 
with  perfectly  individual  and  rational  old  maids,  best 
among  whom  is  the  inimitable  and  gifted  Petrea,  with 
her  enormous  nose.  It  is  evidently  Miss  Bremer's 
theory  that  a  woman  without  beauty  stands  little  chance 
of  marriage,  but  that  that  is  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  make  the  best  of  her  misfortunes.  A  friend  tells  me 
that  on  being  presented  to  Miss  Bremer  when  that 
novelist  visited  New  York  many  years  ago,  her  first 
inward  exclamation  was,  "  Petrea's  nose  !  "  So  perhaps 
Miss  Bremer  drew  directly  from  life ;  and  being  so 
sound  and  sensible  and  altogether  delightful  herself,  it 
is  no  wonder  she  made  her  unmarried  heroines  the 
same.  Having  a  deep  inner  life,  she  could  venture  to 
draw  outward  features  uncompromisingly. 

Among  recent  writers,  Edouard  Rod,  in  his  suggestive 
book,  "  Le  Sens  de  la  Vie,"  has  described  the  life  and 
death  of  a  poor  old  governess  who  had  no  brightness  in 
her  lot  except  that  which  came  from  the  glow  of  her 
large,  loving  heart.  We  feel  the  dignity  of  the  picture 
quite  as  powerfully  as  the  pathos.  Wre  scarcely  venture 
to  pity  the  woman,  notwithstanding  her  heartrending 
misfortunes,  because  we  admire  her  and  wish  humbly 
that  we  could  rise  to  her  height.  She  was  as  old  and 
shabby  and  plain  and  lonely  as  any  caricature  in  fiction ; 
but  the  dominant  note  is  character.  She  breaks  down 
only  once ;  and  that  is  when,  past  the  age  for  work,  all 


42  THE  UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

her  little  savings  are  lost,  and  it  seems  inevitable  that 
she  should  become  dependent.  The  novelist  saves  her 
from  that.  We  almost  wish  he  had  let  the  last  blow  fall, 
we  are  so  sure  she  would  have  risen  up  from  it  as  sweet 
and  courageous  as  ever. 

A  very  different  and  much  less  sombre  picture  is  that 
of  Trollope's  Lily  Dale.  Her  character  has  not  the 
almost  tragic  and  altogether  pathetic  beauty  of  that  of 
the  old  governess,  yet  she  has  certain  qualities  which 
make  it  possible  to  speak  of  her  in  the  same  connection. 
To  begin  with,  she  is  a  heroine  nobody  can  laugh  at, 
though  she  has  such  a  sense  of  humour  that  she  often 
makes  us  laugh  with  her.  She  is  an  attractive  girl,  who 
will  always  be  an  attractive  woman.  We  are  sure  that 
her  boots  and  gloves  will  always  fit  her,  however  old  she 
may  be ;  and  that  her  manners  will  always  be  irre- 
proachable, though  she  is  too  frank  and  cheerful  to  be 
conscious  of  them.  Yet  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  she 
will  never  be  married.  Her  experience  with  her  false 
lover,  Mr.  Crosbie,  and  with  her  true  lover,  Johnny 
Eames,  is  particularly  characteristic  of  women  of  her 
type.  Mr.  Crosbie  looks  like  a  hero,  and  Johnny's  good 
traits  are  not  of  the  heroic  order.  Of  course  she  loves 
the  hero.  When  the  hero's  perfidy  becomes  known,  she 
no  longer  wishes  to  be  his  wife,  even  if  that  were  pos- 
sible ;  but  she  cannot  therefore  cast  him  out  of  her 
heart.     When  he  wooes  her  for  the  second  time,  in  a 


PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.     43 

later  volume,  afraid  she  may  yield  against  her  better 
judgment,  she  puts  the  correspondence  into  her  moth- 
er's hands.  She  likes  and  respects  Johnny,  who  is  a 
much  better  fellow  than  his  rival ;  but  she  can  never 
make  up  her  mind  to  marry  him.  Trollope  conveys  the 
impression  that  she  was  too  romantic,  and  it  is  to  be 
supposed  that  he  knew  her  better  than  we  do ;  still,  it 
always  seems,  in  reading  "  The  Small  House  at  Ailing- 
ton,"  and  especially  "  The  Last  Chronicle  of  Barset," 
as  if  the  author  were  honestly  puzzled  to  account  for  the 
decision  of  his  heroine.  It  is  clear  enough  to  a  woman. 
She  did  appreciate  Johnny,  but  she  was  capable  of 
loving  a  man  of  a  higher  strain.  If  Mr.  Crosbie  had 
never  appeared,  Johnny  would  have  had  no  better 
chance.  It  was  not  Mr.  Crosbie  himself  whom  she 
loved,  but  her  ideal  for  whom  she  mistook  him.  She 
was  completely  undeceived,  being  far  too  truthful  to 
fancy  that  a  man  capable  of  Mr.  Crosbie 's  behaviour 
could  ever  be  fashioned  into  a  real  hero ;  but  her  ideal 
was  not  thereby  changed,  —  and  why  should  it  have 
been? 

There  never  was  a  novelist  whose  eyes  surrounded  his 
dramatis  personce.  with  less  glamour  than  Trollope.  Lily 
Dale  is  therefore  a  fact.  She  is  not  an  extraordinary 
woman,  nor  is  she  placed  in  extraordinary  circumstances. 
She  has  distinction,  however,  and  its  source  is  in  herself. 
In  other  words,  she  has  character.     Whether  she  marries 


44  THE    UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

or  not  may  make  a  great  difference  in  her  happiness, 
but  she  will  be  the  same  woman  in  either  case.  It  is 
this  quality,  above  all  others,  which  allies  her  to  Edouard 
Rod's  governess.  It  is  because  novelists  in  general  fail 
to  see  the  underlying  character  of  the  unmarried  women 
who  tread  their  boards  that  they  so  often  give  us  carica- 
tures. Anybody  who  dresses  up  a  lay  figure  inevitably 
calls  attention  to  accidental  rather  than  essential  char- 
acteristics. There  are  plenty  of  absurd  unmarried,  as 
married,  women,  —  perhaps  more ;  so  that  the  story- 
tellers need  not  suffer  for  models. 

No  attempt  is  made  in  this  chapter  for  a  systematic 
or  complete  survey  of  the  judgment  passed  in  literature 
on  unmarried  women ;  still,  the  leading  types  have  been 
denned.  If  it  is  an  anticlimax  to  begin  with  Minerva 
and  end  with  Lily  Dale,  it  is  chronologically  to  be  jus- 
tified. Moreover,  in  consideration  of  the  effect  which 
literature  has  on  life,  it  is  not  out  of  place  to  make  Lily 
Dale  a  conspicuous  figure.  No  young  girl  expects  to 
be  like  Minerva,  whether  she  marries  or  not;  but  in 
deciding  whether  to  marry  an  unsuitable  lover  or  not, 
it  makes  a  vast  difference  whether  a  girl  has  been  taught 
to  look  on  unmarried  women  as  like  the  typical  "old 
maid,"  or  as  like  Lily  Dale,  —  though  the  portrait  of 
Lily  is  merely  life-size,  and  has  none  of  the  propor- 
tions of  a  heroine. 


THE   REALITY.  45 


III. 

THE    REALITY. 

WHAT  is  the  truth  about  the  matter?  Does 
literature  tell  the  truth?  Was  the  ideal  of 
the  past  ideal,  and  is  the  modern  picture  of  the  nov- 
ists  real?  Can  we  form  any  ideal  which  is  not  studied 
from  the  real  developing  freely? 

In  ages  of  violence,  the  only  choice  for  a  high-minded 
woman  often  lay  between  marriage  and  the  cloister ;  and 
those  who  could  choose  the  cloister  in  preference  to  an 
ill-assorted  marriage  did  show  a  peculiarly  pure  and  lofty 
nature.  Since  their  vocation  had  for  its  first  object  the 
service  of  God,  and  secondarily  was  a  means  of  the 
training  of  children  and  of  caring  for  the  sick,  it  must 
have  reacted  on  such  women,  and  have  kept  them  true 
to  their  noble  instincts.  No  doubt  the  same  may  be 
said  in  reference  to  many  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  of  our 
own  time ;  yet,  as  the  margin  of  choice  is  no  longer  so 
narrow,  this  result  cannot  be  so  frequently  attained. 

To  imaginative  girls,  especially  to  those  who  have  lost 
a  lover,  there  is  a  powerful  appeal  in  a  cloistered  life  : 
the    quiet,  the  beauty,  the  freedom   from  worldly  care, 


^6  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

even  the  fact  of  being  set  apart  from  their  old  compan- 
ions, —  all  these  things  have  a  charm ;  while  the  active, 
loving  service  demanded  of  them  in  teaching  and  nurs- 
ing must  do  much  to  keep  the  balance  which  would  be 
lost  in  continual  solitary  religious  exercises.  Where  the 
rules  are  stringent,  and  the  vows  are  for  life,  as  in  the  Ro- 
man Church,  it  seems  hardly  conceivable  that  an  ardent 
woman  should  not  chafe  against  her  prison-bars ;  though 
we  cannot  know  much  about  it.  In  the  Protestant 
sisterhoods,  however,  there  is  freedom  enough  to  make 
the  life  an  instrument  of  action  for  many  a  woman  who 
might  otherwise  drift  helplessly  about  the  world ;  so, 
even  in  the  nineteenth  century,  we  have  something 
which  answers  to  the  mediaeval  type.  Nevertheless,  the 
women  thus  set  apart  are  by  no  means  representative 
unmarried  women.  Here  and  now,  in  America,  is  a 
great  army  of  free  women  who  live  distinct  individual 
lives,  and  who  have  clearly  defined  characters.  Have 
they  also  any  common  qualities  which  will  fix  their  place 
in  the  scale  of  humanity? 

The  question  will  be  best  answered  by  describing  a 
few  of  these  women.  This  will  at  least  give  us  some 
idea  of  the  local  American  type.  The  examples  will  all 
be  chosen  from  among  women  who  have  passed  their 
thirtieth  birthday,  and  who,  so  far  as  a  mere  acquaint- 
ance may  judge,  have  no  intention  of  ever  marrying. 
Since,  apparently,  the    causes  which    prevent    marriage 


THE   REALITY.  47 

have  most  effect  upon  the  women  who  earn  their  living 
by  pursuits  that  are  not  mechanical,  it  will  not  be  sur- 
prising if  many  of  the  illustrations  are  taken  from  the 
great  body  of  teachers. 

One  is  a  charming  woman,  who  has  taught  almost 
from  girlhood  in  a  large  boarding-school.  Every  year 
has  added  some  new  grace  of  thoughtfulness  or  sym- 
pathy to  her  character,  and  this  is  mirrored  in  her 
bright  and  peaceful  face.  Relay  after  relay  of  young 
girls  has  entered  the  school,  learned  what  she  had  to 
teach  them,  and  gone  away  into  the  world ;  and  still  her 
interest  in  every  forlorn  new  pupil  is  as  tender  as  at 
first.  She  loves  every  girl,  and  every  girl  loves  her. 
This  love  continues  long  after  the  graduation  day,  for 
this  teacher  has  always  been  one  of  the  potent  influences 
moulding  the  characters  of  the  girls.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  this  would  have  been  so  if  she  had  been  merely 
a  lovely  woman.  But  in  her  case  there  has  been  con- 
stant intellectual  growth.  Her  teaching  has  not  been 
the  same  from  year  to  year.  She  has  herself  studied  and 
experimented  and  explored  ;  so  that  she  has  brought  a 
freshness  to  her  instruction  of  every  new  class,  —  though 
it  seems  as  if  her  subject  might  have  become  threadbare 
in  twenty  years.  Then  she  has  lived  much  "  in  the 
open ;  "  and  that  is  the  reason  which  Black  gives  for 
the  intangible  charm  of  one  of  his  most  attractive  hero- 


48  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

ines.  It  does  preserve  youth.  As  long  as  any  one  finds 
daily  delight  in  flowers  and  birds  and  trees  and  streams, 
the  cobwebs  will  not  gather  in  the  brain.  And  when 
the  pagan,  physical  pleasure  in  "  the  open,"  which  is 
so  common  in  youth,  is  for  many  years  supplemented 
by  thought  and  love,  the  type  of  character  produced 
wins  our  joyful  admiration.  No  wonder  the  girls  feel 
as  if  Minerva  herself  had  deigned  to  sit  in  the  in- 
structor's chair. 

The  life  of  a  boarding-school  is  akin  to  that  of  the 
cloister.  That  this  woman  should  be  as  beautiful  and 
gentle  and  refined  as  a  nun  is  to  be  expected ;  but  nuns 
are  denied  the  free  blossoming  which  comes  from  a  life 
in  "  the  open." 

Another  woman  has  taught  as  many  years  in  a  great 
city  high  school.  She  has  trained  battalion  after  bat- 
talion of  young  men  and  maidens  to  be  prompt,  upright, 
and  accurate  ;  she  has  taught  them  "  to  hound  and  hate 
a  lie,"  even  the  seemingly  innocent  lie  which  may  lurk 
in  tripping  figures  in  algebra  and  in  fallacies  in  geom- 
etry. Nobody  would  dare  to  disobey  her,  but  every- 
body likes  her.  She  is  prompt  and  upright  and  accu- 
rate herself.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed  she  considers 
it  her  mission  to  train  the  outside  world  in  these  vir- 
tues. In  her  social  life  she  is  as  gay  and  frank  and 
careless  as  a  girl.     She  is  the  best  of  comrades.     She  is 


THE    REALITY. 


49 


a  lady  to  her  finger-tips.  There  is  no  brusquerie  nor 
noisiness  nor  mauvaise  honte  in  her  manner.  With  all 
her  cordiality  and  vitality,  her  high  spirits  never  pass 
the  bounds  of  thorough  refinement.  How  can  they, 
when  the  refinement  is  in  her  heart? 

She  does  not,  alas  !  love  to  teach.  She  hates  her 
work  as  heartily  as  she  does  it.  But  it  is  her  work,  and 
she  rejoices  in  doing  it  as  well  as  she  can.  When  the 
bell  rings  at  the  close  of  school,  no  coerced  boy  hails 
the  signal  with  more  delight ;  she  drops  her  books  — 
that  is,  unless  it  is  her  duty  to  study  a  lesson,  as  it 
often  is  —  and  gives  not  another  thought  to  the  school- 
room till  the  next  day.  She  is  not  very  strong,  and 
when,  like  most  teachers,  she  finds  herself  completely 
exhausted  at  the  end  of  the  session,  she  throws  herself 
on  her  sofa,  and  takes  a  nap  as  free  from  care  as  a 
baby's.  But  the  few  hours  that  remain  to  her  are  what 
she  calls  her  life.  Friends  and  books,  pictures  and 
music,  walking  and  driving,  fill  the  time  to  the  brim. 
"  The  horrid  school,"  she  says,  "  adds  a  special  zest 
to  the  recreation."  Where  is  there  a  happier  woman? 
The  deep  source  of  her  happiness,  however,  is  here. 
She  has  an  unfaltering  faith  in  the  love  of  God.  This 
makes  possible  to  her,  "  The  beautiful  Now  and  the 
better  To  Be."  All  must  be  beautiful  now,  she  believes, 
—  not  only  the  pleasures  she  thoroughly  enjoys,  but 
the  teaching  which  she  hates  though  she  is  determined 


50  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

to  do  it  so  well,  —  because  it  is  all  in  the  beautiful  plan 
of  God.  And  she  has  never  so  much  as  dreamed  that 
there  is  not  a  still  better  future  where  duty  and  happi- 
ness will  blend  far  more  perfectly  than  now. 

I  know  I  shail  not  be  believed  when  I  speak  of 
another  teacher,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
tell  the  truth  about  her.  She  is  "  The  Phantom  of  De- 
light," described  by  Wordsworth,  from  her  eyes,  which 
"are  stars  of.  twilight  fair,"  and  her  "  steps  of  virgin 
liberty,"  and  her  countenance  in  which  "  meet  sweet 
records,  promises  as  sweet,"  to  "  the  reason  firm,  the 
temperate  will."     Indeed,  she  is 

"  A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command,  — 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel  light." 

In  the  mean  time  she  has  space 

"  For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 
Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles." 

A  plain  little  teacher,  with  queer,  shy  ways,  a  woman 
of  the  sort  that  novelists  are  continually  pouncing  upon, 
extricates  herself  in  real  life  from  the  half  good-natured, 
half  contemptuous  ridicule  which  attends  such  a  per- 
sonage in  books,  not  only  by  her  sweetness  and  gen- 
tleness, but  by  her  genuine  learning.  Everybody  is 
compelled  to  respect  her. 


THE   REALITY. 


51 


Another  teacher  is  still  beautiful  at    forty.     She  be- 
longs to   a  family  in  which  the  dower  of  every  girl  is 
beauty.     As  there  is  little  tangible  dower  in  dollars  and 
cents  in  this  family,  and  as  she  is  the  eldest  daughter, 
her  life  has  been  crowded  with  work.     All  through  her 
vacation  she  wonders   how  anybody  ever  gets  time  for 
school.     Then  the  term  begins,  and  she  throws  herself 
with  the  same  earnestness  into  her  work  there.     Early 
and  late  she  is  at  her  post ;  and  she  wonders  how  any- 
body ever  gets  time  to  mend.     There  is  pressing  need 
for  her  at  home  all  the  time ;  but  then,  if  she  did  not 
teach,  how  would  the  boys  ever  go  through  college,  or 
the  girls  have  their  music  lessons?     Being   an  ardent 
teacher,  she  loves  her  scholars,  and  is  always  ready  to 
take  them  to  an  art   exhibition  or    a    symphony    con- 
cert.    Having  an  affectionate  nature,  she  does  not  feel 
in  vacation  that  her  work  is  done  when  the  bread  is  all 
made  and  the  stockings  are  all  mended.     Her  brothers 
find  her  a  foe  worthy  of  their  steel  at   tennis,  and  her 
sisters   a  discreet  and    sympathetic  confidante  in    their 
love  affairs.     She  feathers  an  oar  like  one  of  the  'Var- 
sity crew,  and  rides  a   spirited   horse.     In  short,  she  is 
the  one  person  who  never  can  be  spared  either  in  times 
of  merrymaking  or  of  sorrow. 

Of  course  she  has  worn  herself  out.  Although  there 
are  no  outward  traces  of  a  physical  wreck,  she  is  dan- 
gerously near  it.     She  has  a  fund  of  good   sense  which 


52  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

teaches  her  how  to  save  herself  when  she  can  (though 
how  seldom  she  can!),  and  this  may  pilot  her  safely 
through  her  perplexities.  But  if  the  break  should  come, 
she  will  not  go  about  moaning.  Her  moral  fibre  will 
save  her  from  being  a  burden,  even  when  she  is  helpless. 
Being  beautiful,  and  having  a  perception  of  the  fitting 
in  dress,  possessing  also  those  qualities  which  accom- 
pany gentle  blood,  she  would  always  be  an  attractive 
figure ;  but  the  firmness  with  which  she  treads  her 
thorny  pathway,  and  the  smile  which  she  wears  when 
her  feet  are  bleeding  teach  those  who  know  her  a  re- 
spect akin  to  reverence.  It  is  a  pity  that  she  must 
wear  out.  In  this  case  no  one  is  to  blame  for  it,  though 
usually  the  sacrifice  of  one  means  the  selfishness  of 
another.  At  all  events,  she  has  the  satisfaction  of  feel- 
ing that  she  does  not  rust  out. 

What  becomes  of  the  teachers  when  they  are  past 
work?  Here  I  will  offer  only  one  portrait,  —  that  of 
an  old  lady  of  seventy,  who  having  taught  most  of  her 
life,  has  retired  to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  days  in 
a  quiet  New  England  town  noted  for  its  cultivated  so- 
ciety. Her  calm  face  with  its  lines  of  thought,  the 
distinction  of  her  old-fashioned  dress  of  the  best  and 
most  durable  fabrics  and  make,  and  the  dignity  of  her 
bearing  always  strike  even  the  stranger  who  meets  her 
on  the  street.    The  sunny  sweetness  of  her  manners  gives 


THE   REALITY.  53 

the  real  home  feeling  to  those  who  visit  her.  She  has  a 
house  of  her  own,  —  a  rare  possession  for  an  unmarried 
woman.  It  was  built  by  herself  according  to  her  own 
ideas  and  furnished  to  suit  herself,  with  taste  and  re- 
finement. There  are  books  everywhere,  pictures  here 
and  there,  a  cosey  corner  by  the  bright  wood-fire,  and 
under  the  windows  is  a  pretty  garden.  The  friends 
who  come  to  see  her  are  soothed  and  invigorated  by 
the  tranquil,  cultivated  atmosphere  of  the  place. 

And  yet  she  lives  alone  !  Or  rather,  she  is  alone  but 
for  her  housekeeper,  a  maiden  lady  almost  as  old  as 
herself,  and  as  typical  an  unmarried  woman.  The 
housekeeper  is  tall  and  angular,  full  of  opinions  which 
cannot  be  shaken,  and  with  a  conscience  which  often 
impels  her  to  testify  to  her  opinions  out  of  season  as 
well  as  in  season.  She  is  the  kind  of  woman  of  whom 
novelists  sometimes  have  a  glimpse,  though  they  seldom 
tell  her  story  adequately,  being  satisfied  with  cataloguing 
her  virtues  of  neatness,  thoroughness,  and  devotion  to 
her  friends,  while  her  eccentricities  are  made  to  fill 
whatever  space  is  needed  for  low  comedy.  Yet  this 
woman  has  a  history,  briefly  summed  up  by  her  em- 
ployer in  these  words :  "  She  has  worked  hard  and 
commanded  a  high  price  for  her  work  all  her  life,  and 
she  has  never  spent  anything  on  herself.  Now  she  is 
old  and  has  not  a  penny."  Moreover,  she  is  a  woman 
of  intellect.     As  her  school  education  was  completed  at 


54  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

ten  years  old,  and  she  has  had  no  time  to  study  since, 
she  is  not  of  course  cultivated.  But  she  likes  to  read, 
and  looks  upon  the  library  of  her  mistress  as  equivalent 
to  added  wages.  The  books  she  selects  are  by  no 
means  the  lightest  on  the  shelves.  But  more  than  that : 
she  thinks.  Her  strong,  active  brain  is  always  poring 
over  the  problems  of  the  origin  and  destiny  of  man. 
She  cannot  solve  them;  but  who  can?  "Why  is  it," 
she  asks,  with  pathetic  solemnity,  "  that  all  the  weeds 
will  grow  so  easily  in  my  garden,  though  I  try  to  root 
them  out,  and  that  so  many  of  my  flowers  die  in  spite 
of  all  my  care?"  Her  mistress,  whose  fine,  cultured 
brain  was  no  stronger  at  the  outset,  has  not  found  an 
answer  in  books,  but  she  has  learned,  through  a  life  by 
no  means  easy,  the  secret  of  serenity,  and  it  sometimes 
seems  as  if  she  would  be  able  to  impart  it  to  her  sad- 
eyed  handmaid. 

I  cannot  venture  to  take  any  more  illustrations  from 
among  teachers,  though  it  would  be  easy  to  find  them. 

One  rich  woman  of  fifty  has  a  charming  home  in  the 
city,  managed  by  a  retinue  of  old  family  servants  with 
manners  that  would  put  many  society  people  to  shame. 
Her  house  is  always  full  of  her  attractive  young  nieces 
and  nephews,  so  that  she  has  no  time  to  be  lonely. 
This  woman  was  a  girl  of  nineteen  when  the  Civil  War 
broke  out,  —  a  beauty  and  a  belle.     When  the  first  gun 


THE   REALITY.  55 

was  fired  on  Sumter,  the  high-bred  and  spirited  young 
men  who  had  been  her  partners  all  winter  were  among 
the  first  to  enlist  in  the  army.  Till  then,  it  was  hardly 
known  that  one  of  them  was  preferred  above  another ; 
but  at  this  terrible  crisis,  when  all  spoke  frankly,  she 
became  engaged  to  one  in  every  way  worthy  of  her. 
He  went  away  the  next  day,  and  was  killed  within  a 
month.  Her  friends  thought  that  an  engagement  which 
had  lasted  only  a  few  weeks  could  not  influence  her  for 
a  very  long  time.  They  sympathized  with  her,  and 
expected  her  to  be  sad  for  a  year  or  two ;  and  then 
they  supposed  she  would  choose  again  from  among  the 
many  who  loved  her.  But  she  never  did.  The  re- 
lation between  her  and  her  dead  lover  had  been  perfect 
while  it  lasted,  and  she  is  so  happy  as  to  think  it  would 
have  remained  perfect  through  life ;  and  she  is  probably 
right.  She  has  not  given  herself  up  to  grief;  she  has 
simply  thought  of  her  lover  as  if  he  were  still  living, 
though  in  another  world ;  and  it  has  been  as  impossible 
for  her  to  think  of  another  lover  as  if  she  were  married. 

She  is  still  lovely.  Every  motion  is  full  of  grace,  and 
her  sweet  voice  adds  a  fascination  to  all  she  says.  Of 
course  —  since  society  women  will  submit  to  burdens  — 
a  large  part  of  her  valuable  life  has  to  be  given  up  to 
calls  and  cards ;  but  still  there  is  a  margin,  and  in  this 
margin  she  contrives  to  do  hundreds  of  the  "  little, 
nameless,  unremembered  acts  "  which  often  tell  so  much 


56  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

more  powerfully  in  helping  the  poor  than  organized 
work  does.  Of  course,  it  is  an  easy  matter  for  her  to 
send  a  check  in  aid  of  any  deserving  charity ;  and  this 
she  does.  She  hears  all  the  fine  music  and  sees  all  the 
fine  pictures  in  the  city,  and  at  her  fireside  there  is  al- 
ways a  group  of  choice  spirits  who  talk  of  the  best  things. 
Of  course  she  goes  abroad  in  the  summer  with  a  niece 
or  two,  making  now  the  churches  of  Normandy  her 
study,  and  now  entering  ardently  into  the  Wagnerian 
opera  at  Bayreuth.  She  is  both  a  just  and  a  generous 
woman,  and  is  also  full  of  sweetness  and  love.  She  has 
no  hobbies,  she  belongs  to  no  societies,  she  reads  no 
papers  in  public.  No  one  less  like  the  conventional 
old  maid  could  be  easily  met  with.  Yet  one  character- 
istic of  an  old  maid  is  believed  to  be  aimlessness ;  and 
this  woman  apparently  has  no  special  purpose  in  life, 
except  indeed  the  great  and  earnest  purpose  to  live 
like  a  Christian  ! 

One  attractive  woman  I  know  has  chosen  to  be  a 
nurse,  and  presides  over  a  perfectly  managed  hospital. 
The  fulness  of  her  happy  life  comes  partly  from  the 
satisfaction  of  relieving  suffering,  and  partly  from  the 
respect  and  love  given  her  in  return. 

Another  woman  is  a  poet,  and  might  have  been  an 
artist  if  anybody  could  ever  have  time  to  do  two  things. 
Most  people  would  call  her  poor ;  but  she  has  the  luxu- 


THE   REALITY.  57 

ries  which  wealth  cannot  buy.  Her  sitting-room  is  high 
up  in  a  city  apartment  house,  and  that  is  the  reason 
that  the  prospect  from  its  windows  is  so  enchanting. 
The  clingy  houses  are  so  far  off  that  they  are  seen  only 
as  thousands  of  shining  lights,  while  beyond  them  is 
the  blue  ocean,  and  above  them  the  sunset  sky.  The 
room  itself  is  full  of  choice  books  and  choicer  pictures, 
because  the  friends  of  this  woman  are  poets  and  artists 
who  enrich  the  world,  and  it  is  but  natural  that  they  should 
give  the  work  they  love  to  the  woman  they  revere. 

She  is  old  in  years,  but  with  the  freshness  of  eternal 
youth  in  her  heart.  Years  cannot  touch  her.  Love 
and  truth,  sincerity  and  simplicity  attend  upon  hei. 
Life  grows  larger  and  sweeter  as  she  grows  older. 

A  farmer's  daughter,  intending  to  be  a  teacher,  lost 
her  health,  and  then  accepted  the  proposal  of  her  min- 
ister's wife  to  help  her  about  her  housework.  She  identi- 
fied herself  with  the  family,  following  them  from  parish  to 
parish,  sharing  all  their  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  and  being 
always  to  them  a  trusted  and  valued  friend.  The  family 
was  never  rich,  and  her  wages  could  not  be  large ;  yet 
this  worker,  having  a  real  interest  in  the  people  and  in 
the  work  she  did  for  them,  never  thought  of  leaving  her 
post ;  and  now,  in  growing  old,  she  can  look  back  on  a 
life  of  solid,  harmonious,  connected  work,  with  a  feeling 
of  dignity.     Of  a  generous  nature,  the  greatest  pleasure 


58  THE    UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

of  her  life  has  been  to  give  away  the  larger  part  of  her 
slender  earnings,  —  sometimes  to  the  missionaries,  some- 
times to  the  poor,  and  sometimes  to  her  friends.  Her 
delight  in  preparing  pretty  and  useful  Christmas  presents 
makes  that  the  chief  occupation  of  her  life  outside  her 
daily  routine,  which  includes  not  only  tasks  but  plenty  of 
reading.  Perhaps  she  should  have  saved  her  money 
against  the  evil  day  which  is  to  come  ;  but  at  all  events 
she  has  lived  her  life,  which  she  might  not  have  done  if 
she  had  believed  a  bank  account  essential. 

Most  American  women  will  not  now  go  into  families 
in  this  way,  and  for  the  good  reason  that  most  mistresses 
do  not  really  respect  those  who  serve  them ;  yet  I  can 
think  of  many  women  scattered  about  in  thoughtful  fami- 
lies, who  do  their  work  simply  and  thoroughly,  whose 
neatness  is  true  refinement,  who  are  honourable  and 
modest,  and  who  have  many  quiet  pleasures.  These 
women  do  not  seem  restless  nor  unhappy,  and  they  add 
in  an  unobtrusive  way  to  the  happiness  of  other  people. 

A  fair  and  gracious  woman,  whose  tastes  are  all 
domestic,  so  that  it  seems  almost  cruel  that  she  should 
not  have  been  queen  in  her  own  home,  lost  her  lover 
many  years  ago.  An  orphan,  without  brother  or  sister, 
above  the  immediate  need  of  earning,  yet  hardly  rich 
enough  to  establish  an  independent  home,  it  might  have 
been   feared  that   she  would  have  found  no  niche  quite 


THE  REALITY. 


59 


suited  to  her.  But  a  loving  heart  is  never  without  some- 
body to  love.  In  caring  for  an  old  uncle  and  aunt, 
whose  children  are  scattered  over  the  world,  she  suc- 
ceeds in  making  sunshine  in  what  might  otherwise  be  a 
shady  place. 

Here  is  a  woman  physician  with  a  sweet,  firm  face. 
She  spends  her  whole  life  in  relieving  suffering.  She  goes 
from  the  luxurious  rooms  of  splendid  houses,  where  her 
cheerful  and  sensible  presence  helps  a  morbid  woman  to 
hold  her  over-indulged  nerves  in  check,  to  the  crowded 
cellars  and  garrets  of  the  poor,  where  her  purity  makes 
even  the  drunken  and  filthy  loungers  straighten  them- 
selves up  as  she  passes.  She  soothes  little  children,  and 
finds  a  place  of  refuge  for  outcast  women.  All  this  is  not 
charity,  though  she  as  gladly  helps  the  poor  as  the  rich. 
Accordingly,  the  poor  have  complete  confidence  in  her : 
she  comes  to  them  because  they  have  asked  her  to  come 
for  a  definite  service  ;  she  might  go  as  generously  for 
the  express  purpose  of  doing  them  good,  and  altogether 
fail  in  her  object.  But  her  occupation  gives  her  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  child  whose  back  has  been  broken 
by  being  trodden  upon  in  a  drunken  brawl,  and  in  the 
girl  who  could  not  help  going  astray,  because  she  lived 
in  the  room  with  a  dozen  other  people.  Her  advice  is 
sometimes  taken,  because  it  is  advice  that  has  been 
asked  for.     But  whether  it  is  acceptable  or  not,  she  can 


Co  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

relieve  pain,  and  so  go  away  comforted  in  spite  of  the 
dreadful  sights  she  sees.  Her  fine  character  has  a 
direct  influence,  too,  in  the  stately  homes  she  visits  so 
unassumingly.  There,  too,  her  advice  counts  for  some- 
thing, because  the  patient  pays  so  high  a  fee  for  it  ! 

She  has  scanty  leisure  ;  but  the  little  time  she  has  is 
spent  in  a  beautiful  though  simple  home,  where  there  are 
comfort  and  taste  and  harmonious  colour,  where  there 
are  books  and  music  and  pictures,  —  better  still,  where 
there  are  warm  hearts.  This  woman  is  fair  to  see,  and 
she  likes  to  wear  exquisite  dresses.  All  her  responsi- 
bility, and  hard  work,  and  knowledge  of  the  degrading 
side  of  life  have  not  destroyed  the  sparkle  of  her  gay 
humour,  which  adds  a  grace  to  all  she  does  and  says. 

Here  is  another  woman  so  fragile  that  one  wonders 
how  so  weak  a  creature,  without  money  or  kindred,  has 
found  room  to  breathe  in  this  hustling  world.  Yet  the 
gentle  radiance  of  her  face  shows  that  she  has  found 
life  worth  living.  Perhaps  her  office  may  be  best  de- 
scribed in  Miss  Bremer's  words  :  — 

"She  belongs  to  that  class  of  persons  of  whose  existence 
a  simple  member  of  the  sisterhood  has  thus  expressed  her- 
self: 'Sometimes  it  is  as  if  one  were  everywhere,  sometimes 
again  it  is  as  if  one  were  nowhere.'  This  strange  existence 
belongs  in  general  to  persons  who,  without  belonging  to  fami- 
lies, are  received  into  them  for  sociality,  for  help,  for  counsel 
and  action,  in   pleasure   and   in  need.  .  .  .  She  may  have 


THE   REALITY.  6l 

her  thoughts,  her  hand,  her  nose,  in  everything,  and  fore- 
most in  everything,  — but  it  must  not  be  observed.  Is  the 
gentleman  of  the  house  in  a  bad  humour  ?  Then  is  she  pushed 
forward  in  the  capacity  of  a  lightning-conductor.  .  .  .  Has 
the  lady  the  vapours?  Then  her  presence  is  as  necessary  as 
the  bottle  of  eau-de-Cologne.  Have  the  daughters  little 
wishes,  plans,  projects  ?  Then  she  is  the  speaking-trumpet 
through  which  they  speak  to  deaf  ears.  If  the  children  cry, 
then  they  send  for  her  to  pacify  them.  Will  they  not  sleep  ? 
She  must  tell  them  stories.  .  .  .  Does  grand  company  come  ? 
Is  the  house  put  in  gala-array?  Then  she  vanishes  ;  people 
know  not  where  she  is,  no  more  than  they  know  where  the 
smoke  which  ascended  up  the  chimney  is  gone  ;  but  the 
works  of  her  invisible  presence  cease  not  to  betray  her. 
...  It  is  the  lot  of  the  House  Counsellor  to  prepare  the 
useful  and  the  agreeable,  but  to  renounce  the  honour.  If 
she  can  do  this  with  stoical  patience  and  resignation  [in  the 
case  of  the  frail  little  Churchwoman  I  am  describing,  how- 
ever, I  think  we  must  substitute  'Christian'  for  'stoical'], 
then  her  existence  is  often  as  interesting  for  herself  as  it  is 
important  to  the  family.  It  is  true  she  must  be  humble  and 
quiet,  go  softly  through  doors,  and  move  with  less  noise 
than  a  fly." 

A  great  contrast  to  her  is  a  dashing  and  efficient 
woman  with  an  emphatic,  cheerful  voice,  whose  presence 
in  various  households  is  also  eagerly  welcomed,  —  partly, 
it  must  be  owned,  because  she  is  so  practically  useful. 
There  is  no  kind  of  work  she  does  not  do  well  and  will- 
ingly, from  cutting  over  old  dresses  to  seasoning  a  gravy. 
But  she  is  also  welcomed  gladly  on  account  of  her  ex- 
cellent temper.      It   might   be   supposed   that   such  an 


62  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

active,  well-balanced  woman,  too  busy  for  idle  fancies, 
would  be  sufficient  to  herself.  That  is  not  quite  true, 
however.  "  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  she  says,  in  her  lively  way, 
"  of  course  we  old  maids  should  all  be  happier  to  be 
married ;  but  if  the  Lord  has  created  more  women  than 
men,  I  don't  know  what  is  to  be  done.  I  don't  know 
any  better  way  than  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

One  delicate  little  woman  in  the  country,  living  on 
the  rent  of  one-half  of  her  neat  cottage,  finds  scope  for 
her  powers  in  her  luxuriant,  fragrant  garden.  All  summer 
she  is  sowing  seeds,  and  weeding  and  pruning.  The 
flowers  grow  up  around  her,  vines  hide  the  cottage,  and 
the  air  is  full  of  balm.  In  the  winter  her  sitting-room 
is  a  garden.  Her  lavishness  with  her  flowers  has  won 
the  affection  of  every  child  in  the  village. 

Here  is  a  great  family  of  unmarried  daughters,  all  so 
full  of  energy,  so  good-tempered,  so  fresh  and  bright, 
that  one  involuntarily  wonders  after  the  old  fashion,  how 
they  can  have  been  allowed  to  remain  single.  But  then, 
we  remember  the  famous  Miss  Pole,  of  "  Cranford," 
who  thought  "  it  argued  great  natural  credulity  in  a 
woman  if  she  could  not  keep  herself  from  being 
married."  These  sisters  are  doctors  and  musicians 
and  teachers  and  artists,  and  there  are  always  enough 
of  them  disengaged  at  once  to  make  the  old  home- 
stead gay  with  vigorous  life. 


THE   REALITY.  63 

I  know  two  unpretending  sisters  who  have  earned  a 
home  for  themselves  by  taking  boarders.  Their  mort- 
gage is  paid,  and  they  are  free  women.  They  work  still, 
but  they  can  have  guests  in  the  house  instead  of  board- 
ers. They  are  simple,  earnest,  energetic  women,  who 
have  learned  self-control  from  petty  irritations,  prudence 
and  care  from  the  necessity  of  making  the  ends  meet, 
and  thoughtfulness  for  others  by  having  their  own  feel- 
ings so  often  hurt.  They  have  learned  the  great  science 
of  cookery,  if  no  other.  They  have  read  few  books,  but 
their  experience  of  life  has  gone  so  deep  that  the  best 
books  have  a  meaning  to  them  which  would  surprise 
many  a  woman  who  piques  herself  on  her  intelligence. 

Another  quiet  woman  works  at  a  trade  which  obliges 
her  to  live  in  a  hermetically  sealed  room  in  the  hottest 
weather.  She  looks  a  little  pale  and  tired,  but  none  the 
less  lovable  for  that,  and  she  might  marry  any  day  she 
would  say  the  word.  But  no,  she  has  her  leisure  hours 
which  she  can  spend  with  her  friends,  and  she  says  pleas- 
antly that  she  likes  her  work.  It  involves  skill,  and  it 
pleases  her  to  see  how  well  she  can  do  it.  The  room  is 
close,  no  doubt ;   but  what  lot  is  perfect  ? 

What  the  inner  life  of  all  these  women  may  be, 
no  one  can  say.  Many  of  them,  no  doubt,  cherish  a 
tender  idealized  memory  in  their  hearts  of  some  dead 
or   lost    friend,  who    is    more   to   them  than  any   daily 


64  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

companion.  Many  a  dull,  gentle  woman  has  this  hid- 
den spring  of  poetry,  which  beautifies  her  life.  When 
there  has  been  no  wrong  on  either  side,  such  a  memory 
of  a  hope  is  better  than  most  fruition.  There  is  to 
most  women  a  charm  in  the  belief  that  there  is  but 
one  possible  love  for  them  in  the  universe,  and  all  young 
girls  believe  it.  It  is  doubtful  whether,  in  the  face  of 
facts,  many  people  past  thirty  can  retain  that  belief,  and 
it  is  by  no  means  proved  that  it  is  the  ideal  belief;  and 
yet  the  love  of  man  and  woman  is  certainly  not  like 
the  great  universal  love,  which  nevertheless  includes  it. 
There  is  a  personal  charm  which  wins  even  when  the 
pursuit  of  the  loftiest  common  aims  leaves  one  cold.  A 
great  passion  not  only  swallows  up  the  intellect,  but  it 
seems  to  be  in  a  measure  independent  even  of  character 
and  of  beauty.  It  has  rights  of  its  own  which  must  be 
respected  whenever  it  does  not  conflict  with  the  love  of 
God.  It  may  be  true,  in  spite  of  logic  and  experience, 
that  there  are  certain  souls  bound  together  by  special 
ties  in  all  worlds,  although  they  may  be  separated  by  cir- 
cumstances, and  that  not  even  a  failure  in  character  on 
either  side  can  destroy  the  necessary  relationship  be- 
tween them.  Because  it  is  not  my  own  belief,  am  I 
sure  it  is  a  mistake?  At  all  events,  some  women  will 
always  cling  to  it,  and  among  these  there  will  be  some 
who  have  never  seen  even  the  dawn  of  a  hope  above 
their  own  horizon. 


THE   REALITY.  6$ 

These  examples  of  single  lives  are  purposely  chosen 
chiefly  from  the  ranks  of  private  women.  It  is  true 
that  many  of  the  women  are  well  known  and  influential 
in  a  very  large  circle ;  but  they  are  known  directly 
by  the  widening  of  personal  influence,  and  not  through 
the  newspapers.  Thus  they  are  more  typical  than  their 
more  famous  sisters ;  and  most  of  us,  I  think,  are 
oftener  helped  and  encouraged  by  the  spectacle  of  a 
rich  and  earnest  life  whose  conditions  are  not  very 
different  from  our  own,  than  by  the  brilliant  achieve- 
ments of  one  that  is  hopelessly  out  of  reach. 

Besides  this,  the  distinguished  women,  who  are  to 
be  found  about  equally  among  the  married  and  the 
single,  are  so  well  known  and  so  much  talked  about 
that  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  mention  them.  If  it  were 
needful  here  to  catalogue  the  single  women  who  have 
accomplished  great  things,  there  would  be  no  lack  of 
material.  From  Joan  of  Arc  as  a  military  leader,  and 
Queen  Elizabeth  as  a  ruler,  to  Miss  Willard,  enthusi- 
astically working  for  temperance,  Jean  Ingelow  as  a 
poet,  Charlotte  Cushman  on  the  stage,  and  Professor 
Maria  Mitchell  holding  an  honoured  place  among  sci- 
entists, they  have  made  themselves  felt  everywhere. 
Perhaps  they  have  had  rather  more  to  do  than  the 
married  women  in  the  department  of  modern  educa- 
tion. The  hundreds  of  boarding-schools  which  sprang 
up  all  over  the  United   States,   partly  in   consequence 

5 


66  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

of  the  impulse  given  by  Mary  Lyon,  have  oftener  been 
presided  over  by  single  than  by  married  women,  who 
have  done  a  distinct  and  recognized  work,  scarcely 
less  important,  though  not  carried  so  far  as  that  of  the 
women  connected  with  women's  colleges,  among  whom 
such  names  as  those  of  Miss  Annie  Clough  and  Miss 
Helen  Gladstone  of  Newnham  will  at  once  occur  to 
everybody. 

Most  of  the  pictures  in  this  chapter  are  taken  from 
among  the  women  who  either  support  themselves  or 
have  money  enough  to  choose  their  own  mode  of  life. 
But  there  is  also  a  small  and  decreasing  class  of  poor 
women  who  live  in  a  straitened  way  in  their  own 
homes,  with  no  definite  employment  except  the  daily 
drudgery  of  housekeeping.  In  such  cases  the  narrow 
environment  sometimes  produces  distortion  of  character. 
The  "  queer  "  women  are  often  found  in  such  circum- 
stances. There  is  no  free  development,  and  accord- 
ingly the  result  is  often  the  typical  "  old  maid."  What 
we  know  of  such  a  woman  is,  however,  seldom  the 
truth.  WTe  see  only  the  husk.  I  remember  when  I 
was  a  girl  I  was  once  startled  by  discovering  acciden- 
tally a  beautiful  deed  which  had  been  done  by  a  wea- 
zened old  woman,  who  had  appeared  to  me  so  mean, 
so  censorious,  and  so  self-righteous  that  I  had  before 
thought    her   perfectly  fair   game.      When  I   began   to 


THE   REALITY. 


67 


watch  her  more  closely,  I  found  that  her  meanness 
was  the  result  of  her  giving  away  far  more  than  she 
ought  to  have  spared,  that  her  censoriousness  had  been 
taken  for  granted,  and  that  it  was  because  of  her  self- 
abasement  that  her  conscientiousness  was  so  intrusive. 
But  she  was  weazened  and  she  was  pinched,  and  we 
had   all  been  laughing  at  her   misfortunes  ! 

It  is  peculiarly  sad  to  see  a  girl  who  is  attractive 
in  youth,  and  who  lives  in  the  ease  of  moderate  wealth, 
with  the  gifts  and  education  which  promise  a  certain 
position  in  the  world,  when  she  grows  older  without 
any  definite  occupation,  especially  if,  when  her  parents 
die,  she  is  left  with  so  limited  an  income  that  she  is 
obliged  to  forego  all  the  little  graceful  acts  and  em- 
ployments which  are  an  aim  in  themselves,  and  which 
can  make  such  a  fate  beautiful.  Such  a  girl  is  not 
usually  to  blame.  It  is  not  the  custom  of  the  family 
that  the  women  should  earn  their  living;  she  is  not 
so  trained  that  she  can  do  it ;  she  is  perhaps  delicate 
in  health,  and  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  adjust  herself 
satisfactorily  to  changed  conditions.  If  she  had  been 
married,  all  would  have  gone  well.  She  would  have 
been  a  gentle,  merry  wife  and  mother,  and  she  would 
have  entertained  her  friends  charmingly.  If  she  had 
been  left  with  a  fortune,  she  would  have  presided  over 
an  agreeable,  hospitable,  and  lovely  home.  But  how 
can  a  pinched  life  be  beautiful?      If  several  share  it, 


68  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

love  makes  the  poorest  condition  rich ;  but  to  be  both 
poor  and  alone  is  narrowing  indeed.  Such  women, 
at  thirty-five  or  forty,  are  apt  to  look  back  on  some 
very  undesirable  early  lover  whom  they  regarded  with 
scorn  in  happier  days,  and  wish  they  had  known  how 
they  were  going  to  feel  later  on  :  and  if  the  lover  were 
simply  uncouth  or  dull  or  poor,  perhaps  they  are  not 
wrong.  Though  marriage  without  love  is  certainly  fatal, 
and  a  woman  of  intellect  should  not  dare  to  doom  her- 
self to  daily  companionship  with  one  who  has  no 
thoughts  in  common  with  her,  yet  an  upright,  kind- 
hearted  man  wears  very  well ;  and  it  is  perhaps  unwise 
to  cast  off  such  a  lover  summarily,  without  taking  pains 
to  know  him  thoroughly. 

The  difference  between  the  present  and  the  past 
generations  of  unmarried  women  is  very  striking,  and 
even  more  so  in  reality  than  in  appearance,  since  it 
might  carelessly  be  supposed  that  the  great  contrast 
between  the  younger  maiden  ladies  and  those  beyond 
middle  age  is  entirely  due  to  the  difference  of  age ; 
whereas  it  is  hardly  probable  that  any  large  proportion 
of  the  younger  women  will  ever  be  in  the  least  like  the 
old  women  of  the  present  generation,  because  their 
early  life  has   been  entirely  different. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  this  fact  is  owing 
to  the  increase  of  freedom,  accompanied  of  course  by 


THE   REALITY.  69 

better  physical  conditions  than  those  of  the  past,  and 
by  the  new  opportunities  for  education.  That  educa- 
tion is  an  important  factor  is  proved  by  the  sharp  line 
of  division  between  the  college  women  and  those  of 
equal  gifts  who  belong  to  the  decade  before  them. 
The  college  women  are  less  self-conscious,  more  vigor- 
ous, hold  their  powers  much  better  in  hand,  and  are 
far  better  fitted  to  their  environment.  Before  women's 
colleges  were  established,  it  used  to  be  said  that  "  all 
American  women  who  were  educated  were  also  morbid." 
But  how  seldom  you  see  a  morbid  woman  among  col- 
lege graduates  !  The  women  who  fought  their  way 
to  an  education  in  the  past  did  so  under  such  diffi- 
culties, and  found  so  little  scope  for  their  powers  in 
their  conventional  world,  that  they  were  almost  forced 
to  be  morbid.  They  could  not  help  being  self-con- 
scious, because  they  were  denied  any  harmonious  de- 
velopment, and  were  consequently  always  aware  of  their 
own  inadequacy.  The  only  way  for  them  to  earn  a 
living  was  by  teaching.  Now,  while  a  great  many  wo- 
men love  teaching  enthusiastically,  a  great  many  others 
do  not ;  and  among  those  who  love  the  work,  a  sense 
of  insufficient  preparation  is  enough  to  poison  every 
hour  in  the  schoolroom.  In  these  days  a  woman  teaches 
because  she  chooses  the  work,  and  in  most  cases  such 
a  woman  has  ample  opportunity  to  prepare  herself  for 
her  vocation.  Of  course  she  goes  to  school  every 
morning   with  bright    eyes    and    a    quick    step,  and    is 


JO  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

therefore  a  great  contrast  to  the  older  woman,  with  her 
weary  and  heroic  determination  to  do  a  hated  duty. 
The  older  women  were  often,  though  by  no  means  gen- 
erally, as  good  teachers  as  the  younger,  but  with  such 
expenditure  of  force  in  overcoming  friction  that  their 
whole  life   was   absorbed  in  the  struggle. 

Within  a  few  weeks  two  equally  fine  women  have 
made  two  directly  opposite  exclamations  to  me.  One 
said,  "  How  dearly  I  love  to  teach  !  "  The  other  said, 
"  I  have  taught  twenty-five  years,  and  every  moment 
of  the  time  under  protest  !  "  No  one  believes  this 
lady  when  she  says  this,  because  she  is  a  wonderful 
teacher,  who  rouses  great  enthusiasm  in  her  pupils. 
"How  can  you  do  a  work  you  do  not  love,  so  well?  " 
everybody  asks.  "  Because  it  is  my  duty  to  teach,  and 
I  should  be  ashamed  not  to  do  it  well,"  she  says. 

The  one  who  loves  her  work  is  young  and  fresh  and 
sure  of  herself.  She  loves  contact  with  people,  espe- 
cially with  children.  She  likes  to  plan  a  neat  little 
scheme  for  bringing  the  truths  of  mathematics  or  the 
laws  of  language  home  to  her  pupils ;  and,  moreover, 
she  has  had  a  college  education.  The  one  who  hates 
her  work  is  as  lovely,  as  refined,  in  many  ways  even 
more  cultured,  and  has  as  warm  a  heart;  but  she  is 
by  nature  a  student,  and  not  a  teacher.  She  has  origi- 
nal power;  and  she  needs  the  quiet,  uninterrupted 
time  for  investigation,  which  has  always  been  denied 
her.     She  loves  children,  but  not  en  masse.     The  con- 


THE   REALITY.  71 

stant  clatter  of  thirty  or  forty  children  wearies  her 
indescribably ;  yet  for  special  children  her  love  goes 
so  deep  that  it  has  proved  the  greatest  blessing  those 
children  have  ever  known.  The  younger  lady  is  origi- 
nal, too ;  but  her  original  work  is  directly  upon  human 
beings.  She  influences  and  helps  every  child  in  her 
school,  and  apparently  without  effort.  There  could  not 
be  a  greater  work ;  but  if  the  older  woman  had  been 
allowed  a  natural  life,  I  think  she  would  have  done 
something  as  great.  How  absurd  that  two  women  so 
different  should  be  set  precisely  the  same  task  !  But 
this  has  always  been  the  case  until  the  present  genera- 
tion. It  certainly  is  not  to  be  desired  that  women 
should  compete  with  men ;  but  till  they  were  in  a  po- 
sition to  do  this,  they  could  do  nothing  better.  The 
power  to  earn  our  living  by  doing  something  for  which 
we  are  fitted  by  nature  is  the  first  step  toward  the 
freedom  which  is  working  such  wonders  for  us.  It  is 
seldom  now  that  we  hear  the  mournful  cry  of  one  of 
George  Eliot's  heroines,  "  God  did  a  cruel  thing  when 
he  made  a  woman." 

The  single  women  I  know  between  thirty  and  thirty- 
five  are  a  delightful  set,  —  fresh,  happy,  active,  intelli- 
gent, humorous,  and  sympathetic,  often  pretty  and 
usually  well-dressed.  We  are  sometimes  exasperated 
because  they  seem  too  evenly  developed.  We  dearly 
like  a  little  imperfection  in  our  loved  ones.  We  would 
rather  they  should  not  be 


72  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

"  too  bright  and  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food." 

When  we  look  on  these  radiant  creatures,  so  at  one 
with  the  "here  and  now,"  we  sometimes  wonder  if  the 
"divine  discontent"  which  possessed  the  unmarried 
women  twenty-five  years  ago  was  not  the  germ  of  a 
still  higher  life.  Nevertheless,  as  most  discontent  is 
far  from  divine,  I  think  we  cannot  seriously  doubt  that 
the  change  for  the  better  has  been  immense. 

Shall  I  be  accused  of  an  untruthful  optimism  because 
I  have  omitted  altogether  that  class  of  women  who 
"  pursue  "  a  man?  There  are,  I  grieve  to  say,  many 
such  women,  but  they  would  not  look  upon  themselves 
as  women  to  whom  this  book  is  addressed ;  and  as  they 
usually  do  succeed  in  their  aim  at  last,  do  they  really 
belong  here  ? 

I  do  not  think  I  have  chosen  unfairly  the  representa- 
tives of  the  real  unmarried  women.  Of  course  there  are 
some  odd,  bitter,  sharp  single  women,  and  in  every  class 
of  human  beings  selfishness  abounds.  But  am  I  not  jus- 
tified in  saying  that  unmarried  women,  at  least  those  of 
America  in  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  rank 
as  high  both  in  worth  and  in  charm  as  any  men  or  women 
in  the  world  ?  Like  everybody  else,  they  have  individual 
traits  which  are  very  amusing ;  but  to  laugh  at  them  as 
a  class  stamps  one  as  conventional  and  .unobservant. 


THE   REALITY. 


73 


Yet  all  these  fine  women  are  outside  of  the  current  of 
life.  The  race  goes  on  without  them.  They  certainly 
do  a  vast  and  noble  work  in  the  world,  but  their  influ- 
ence on  its  development  is  a  secondary  influence.  It 
seems  almost  as  if  their  only  chance  of  exerting  any  in- 
fluence at  all  lay  in  their  making  a  direct  effort,  and  that 
often  under  discouraging  circumstances.  But  this  is  not 
altogether  a  misfortune.  Rightly  understood,  it  con- 
stitutes a  definite  demand  upon  them  for  a  high  char- 
acter, and  I  believe  it  is  now  so  understood  by  most  of 
these  women. 

Those  philosophers  who  theorize  easily  about  the  race 
as  a  whole,  and  think  lightly  of  the  claims  of  individual 
life  either  here  or  hereafter,  would  perhaps  do  well  to 
consider  the  position  of  an  unmarried  woman.  She  is 
no  doubt  as  much  bound  to  sacrifice  herself  to  the  race 
as  her  married  sister ;  but  her  task  is  much  harder,  and 
the  reason  of  her  existing  at  all  is  much  less  clear.  It  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  her  to  believe  in  individual  re- 
sponsibility and  development,  both  in  this  world  and  the 
next,  in  order  even  to  guess  at  the  reason  for  her  crea- 
tion.    She  is  forced  in  self-defence  to  accept  the  creed 

"  That  nothing  walks  with  aimless  feet  ; 
That  not  one  life  shall  be  destroyed, 
Or  cast  as  rubbish  to  the  void, 
When  God  hath  made  the  pile  complete." 


74  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 


IV. 

DEPENDENCE. 

IT  takes  an  unmeasured  love  to  make  dependence 
bearable.  Even  then  the  bonds  can  hardly  be 
worn  without  some  chafing.  For  instance,  a  lady  who 
had  steadily  refused  a  home  of  wealth  and  leisure  from 
a  richer  friend,  once  said  :  "  I  love  Helen  enough  to 
take  anything  from  her ;  but  the  trouble  is,  I  don't 
always  approve  of  her,  so  it  would  n't  do  for  me  to  be 
in  her  debt." 

Most  women  in  marrying  submit  to  dependence.  A 
few  do  so  with  open  eyes  and  willingly ;  but  more  do 
not  realize  what  they  are  doing.  In  both  cases,  how- 
ever, the  pain  of  dependence  is  usually  relieved  by  love, 
—  and  more  than  that,  this  love  is  the  woman's  own 
choice.  Such  dependence  must  still  often  be  bitter, 
but  it  is  not  like  the  dependence  of  the  unmarried 
woman.  At  all  events,  marriage  frees  a  woman  from 
the  control  of  anybody  but  her  husband. 

Yet  even  in  these  days,  with  all  the  freedom  American 
women  enjoy,  there  is  much  tyranny  exercised  over  the 
unmarried   woman,    though    often    good-naturedly   and 


DEPENDENCE.  75 

unintentionally.  It  is  very  hard  to  realize  that  a  woman 
has  a  right  to  a  life  of  her  own.  To  be  just,  it  must  be 
owned  that  most  women  do  not  like  to  "  stand  upright 
in  a  realm  of  sand,"  like  "a  palm-tree."  There  is 
meaning  in  the  worn  metaphor  of  the  "  clinging  ivy." 
The  best  of  women  would  no  doubt  sacrifice  their  in- 
dependence without  a  tear,  if  they  could  anywhere  find 
an  unfailing  human  support.  But  they  do  not  enjoy 
an  apparent  support  which  may  sink  under  their  weight, 
and  they  wish  to  have  freedom  in  growing  and  twining. 

The  ideas  about  women  which  find  their  way  into 
print  are  still  so  conventional  that  I  think  we  shall 
never  be  accurate  in  our  estimate  until  we  faithfully 
look  about  us,  and  ask  what  living  women  really  are. 
Now,  whatever  may  have  been  true  in  the  past,  must  we 
not  own  that  women  in  these  days  do  wish  for  an  indi- 
vidual life?  Their  purpose  may  be  self-surrender  to 
father,  mother,  husband,  child,  or  friend,  —  it  often 
seems  as  if  it  were  so  ;  but  even  then,  the  woman  wishes 
to  choose  to  whom  she  will  surrender  herself.  Can  any 
reader  point  to  one  woman  who  is  happy  in  being  sac- 
rificed to  other  people,  however  numerous  and  complete 
her  voluntary  sacrifices  may  be  ? 

Very  well.  Married  women  are  supposed  to  have 
made  their  choice,  though  that  may  be  an  unwarranted 
assumption.  But  single  women  are  often  looked  upon 
as  puppets  to  be  moved  by  their  pastors  and  masters. 


;6 


THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 


"I  am  sixty- four,"  said  a  smiling  old  lady;  "but  my 
Aunt  Hannah,  who  is  seventy,  cannot  be  reconciled  to 
my  management  of  my  own  house.  She  seems  to  think 
I  am  a  giddy  girl."  Now,  if  this  old  lady  had  been 
married  at  twenty,  I  suppose  her  Aunt  Hannah  would 
very  soon  have  retired  from  the  field.  At  any  rate,  the 
young  wife  could  have  easily  silenced  her  criticisms  by 
sweetly  saying  that  the  master  of  the  house  approved  of 
such  and  such  ways. 

No  dependence  is  so  welcome  to  most  of  us  as  de- 
pendence on  parents.  Of  course  there  are  exceptions 
even  to  this  rule.  Some  parents  do  not  deserve  their 
children's  respect,  and  some  are  hard-hearted ;  and 
then  any  kind  of  dependence  upon  them  is  a  burden ; 
but  in  general,  the  love  of  father  and  mother  is  so  full 
and  free,  their  giving  is  such  a  pleasure,  that  we  feel  no 
weight,  however  much  we  receive  from  them.  And  then 
we  have  taken  from  them  all  our  lives,  long  before  we 
knew  the  name  of  gratitude.  There  is  no  wound  to 
self-respect  in  being  supported  by  our  parents  as  long 
as  they  are  able  to  care  for  us  ;  and  we  are  glad  to 
depend  upon  them  for  counsel  and  help. 

But  there  is  a  kind  of  dependence  even  upon  parents 
which  is  irksome.  Some  parents  expect  the  same  obe- 
dience from  a  woman  of  thirty  as  from  a  child  of  ten. 
"  I  think,"  I  once  heard  a  lady  say,  as  she  was  cutting 
out  some  garments,  "  that  I  shall  not  line  the  yokes  of 


DEPENDENCE. 


77 


these  night-dresses."  She  was  a  lady  who  had  been  for 
many  years  a  successful  teacher  of  unruly  boys.  She 
was  renowned  for  her  good  judgment  and  common- 
sense.  So  far  from  being  dependent  upon  her  parents, 
they  were  dependent  upon  her.  Yet  her  mother,  who 
had  always  lined  the  yokes  of  night-dresses,  looked  up, 
smiling,  and  said,  "  Mind  your  mother,  Lucy,  and  line 
the  yokes."  Lucy  smiled  too ;  but  she  minded  her 
mother,  as  she  had  been  taught  to  do.  Now,  if  such 
a  suppression  of  judgment  is  required  of  a  well-balanced 
woman  of  thirty  who  has  gone  out  into  the  world  and 
supported  her  family,  what  must  we  expect  will  be  de- 
manded of  one  who  stays  at  home  and  is  supported 
from  the  parental  purse? 

The  elder  daughter  who  leads  a  single  life  is  a  most 
delightful  addition  to  the  family  group.  Her  father  has 
his  duties ;  her  mother  hers.  The  brothers  have  their 
occupations  which  are  sacred  from  interruption,  the 
younger  sisters  are  perhaps  in  school,  but  the  eldest 
sister  has  no  rights  which  anybody  is  bound  to  respect. 
She  has  nothing  to  do,  and  so  she  can  do  everything, 
from  helping  her  father  balance  his  accounts  and  en- 
gaging her  mother's  dressmaker  to  spinning  tops  for 
the  children.  I  think  such  women  are  dearly  loved  in 
an  honest,  selfish  way.  It  is  charming  to  have  some- 
body at  hand  to  pick  up  all  the  stitches  everybody  else 
drops.     And  it  is  certainly  very  good  discipline  for  any 


78  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

girl,  as  well  as  excellent  preparation  for  the  thousand 
small  sacrifices  which  marriage  daily  demands.  Warm- 
hearted girls,  who  love  their  fathers  and  mothers  and 
brothers  and  sisters  devotedly  may  even  enjoy  such  a  life 
for  a  while,  but  I  do  not  think  the  enjoyment  can  last 
many  years.  The  time  comes  when  the  girl  wonders  if 
it  would  not  be  more  to  the  purpose  to  knit  a  stocking 
of  her  own.  She  is  sometimes  bold  enough  to  fancy  that 
the  provoking  stitches  would  not  be  so  carelessly  dropped, 
if  the  task  of  picking  them  up  belonged  to  the  heedless 
worker.  The  longer  a  woman  leads  this  life  of  self- 
suppression  the  more  unbearable  it  becomes  to  her; 
but  to  others  it  grows  to  be  more  and  more  a  matter 
of  course.  It  is  harder  and  harder  to  break  away  from 
it.  In  such  a  case  marriage  is  sometimes  looked  upon 
as  a  deliverance  ;  and  that  is  an  unfortunate  view  of  it. 

If  even  with  her  father  and  mother  a  woman  finds  it 
hard  to  lead  her  own  life,  it  must  be  still  harder  when 
she  has  a  step-father  or  step-mother,  and  the  difficulty 
is  then  aggravated  by  the  natural  but  unjust  conclusion 
on  both  sides  that  the  fault  is  personal  and  not  due  to 
circumstances. 

A  friend  tells  me  of  a  beautiful  young  girl  who  lost 
her  mother  at  sixteen.  She  was  devotedly  attached  to 
her  father ;  and  the  moment  she  was  allowed  to  leave 
school,  she  gave  herself  up  to  him  with  her  whole  heart. 
She  kept  his  house  perfectly,  she  entertained  his  friends, 


DEPENDENCE.  79 

she  read  his  books,  she  dressed  to  please  him,  and  she 
was  always  ready  to  walk  or  drive  with  him,  or,  if  he 
liked  a  quiet  evening  at  home,  to  read  or  sing  to  him. 
So  passed  fifteen  happy  years.  Living  in  the  country, 
she  saw  nobody  who  tempted  her  to  leave  her  father, 
and  she  never  meant  to  leave  him.  But  at  that  point 
the  father  married  again.  The  step-mother  was  a  fine 
woman,  quite  prepared  to  be  a  mother  to  the  daughter. 
But  could  it  be  expected  that  such  a  daughter  at  thirty- 
one  would  wish  for  a  new  mother?  She  acknowledged, 
though  of  course  with  pain,  that  her  father  had  a  right 
to  marry,  and  she  tried  to  do  justice  to  the  good  quali- 
ties of  the  wife  ;  but  for  herself  her  occupation  was  gone, 
her  life  had  come  to  an  abrupt  pause.  Circumstances 
were  not  so  hard  in  her  case  as  in  many  others.  She 
was  not  poor,  and  she  had  a  musical  gift.  She  went 
quietly  away  to  the  city,  where  for  some  time  she  made 
a  home  with  an  unmarried  friend  and  gave  herself  to 
music  with  the  same  zeal  with  which  she  had  given  her- 
self to  a  domestic  life.  In  the  end  she  married  hap- 
pily; so  I  suppose  the  bitterness  of  her  grief  at  her 
father's  marriage  must  have  been  assuaged.  But  what 
if  she  had  had  no  special  gift,  and  what  if  she  had  been 
poor?  Could  she  possibly  have  stayed  at  home  without 
constant  friction?  And  how  could  she  have  supported 
herself  in  any  comfort  elsewhere?  I  think  most  women 
would  choose   the   independence  at  all  costs;    and  yet 


So  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

it  would  not  be  pleasant  to  have  it  said,  "  She  could  not 
agree  with  her  step-mother." 

Another  young  lady  was  really  pleased  because  her 
mother  made  a  second  marriage.  The  mother  and 
daughter  had  lived  charmingly  together  for  years  on  a 
very  narrow  income,  and  the  step-father  was  not  only 
a  rich  man,  but  good-tempered  and  agreeable.  The 
daughter  liked  him,  and  thought  life  would  be  easier 
than  before ;  but  as  years  went  on,  she  found  out  her 
mistake.  She  had  money  enough,  it  is  true ;  but  her 
generous  benefactor  never  dreamed  that  she  might 
want  any  freedom  of  life.  Her  time  had  to  be  at  his 
command,  her  occupations  such  as  he  chose.  Her 
companions  and  her  opinions  were  also  his  choice 
rather  than  hers.  He  was  an  excellent  man,  and  she 
was  an  excellent  woman ;  but  he  looked  upon  her  as 
an  opinionated  old  maid,  and  she  looked  upon  him 
as  her  jailer.  She  sometimes  fluttered  her  wings  and 
tried  to  break  away  from  her  cage.  She  thought  she 
should  like  to  earn  her  own  living,  though  she  reflected 
with  a  shudder  that  she  had  no  idea  how  to  do  it ; 
but  the  traditions  of  the  step-father's  family  would  not 
allow  that.  Any  misery  of  dependence  seemed  better 
in  that  family  than  that  a  woman  belonging  to  it  should 
support  herself. 

One  wise  man,  about  to  marry  a  second  time,  settled 
ten  thousand  dollars  on   his  unmarried  daughter.     He 


DEPENDENCE.  8 1 

said  he  should  like  to  have  her  stay  at  home,  but  that 
no  one  could  foresee  whether  she  and  her  step-mother 
would  be  quite  happy  together.  The  sense  of  freedom 
which  both  the  women  had  in  consequence  of  this 
arrangement  resulted  in  making  them  ardent  friends. 

A  species  of  dependent  independence  which  kind 
fathers  in  the  past  often  bestowed  on  their  daughters, 
consisted  in  leaving  them  a  right  in  the  homestead 
which  descended  to  a  brother.  This  is,  I  think,  now 
less  common.  The  friction  when  several  adults  of  dif- 
ferent tastes  and  temperaments  are  thus  compelled  to 
live  together  is  little  appreciated  by  mere  lookers-on. 
The  fathers  mean  to  do  their  best,  and  sometimes  noth- 
ing else  can  be  done.  But  probably  there  are  fewer 
family  quarrels  when  a  definite  division  of  the  property 
is  made,  so  that  a  woman  does  not  forfeit  her  only 
means  of  support  by  choosing  a  home  for  herself. 

It  is  neither  easy  nor  pleasant  for  most  women  to 
earn  their  living,  but  it  is  usually  better  than  any  alter- 
native open  to  an  unmarried  woman.  Even  when 
independent,  so  far  as  regards  money,  a  single  woman 
suffers  from  other  forms  of  dependence.  For  a  woman 
in  society  there  seems  absolutely  no  help.  The  mo- 
ment that  she  appears  in  public  without  the  aegis 
of  a  married  woman,  she  is  looked  upon  as  super- 
annuated,   because    it    is   not    thought    possible   that  a 


,554-7 


82  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

young  lady  should  take  care  of  herself.  Some  years 
ago  I  heard  a  group  of  charming  girls  declaiming 
loudly  against  the  selfishness  of  a  young  married  gentle- 
man of  their  acquaintance.  I  inquired  what  he  had 
done  to  rouse  their  wrath.  "  Why,  you  see,"  said 
one,  "  he  will  not  go  to  D.'s  party.  And  if  Mr.  Snow 
does  n't  go,  Mrs.  Snow  will  not  go ;  and  as  Mrs.  Snow 
was  to  chaperon  us  all,  of  course  we  shall  all  have  to 
stay  at  home."  This  seemed  reasonable  enough  at 
first.  But  among  the  girls  was  one  who  ought  not  to 
have  been  called  a  girl.  She  was  past  thirty,  but  both 
beautiful  and  attractive,  so  that  she  was  in  demand  in 
society.  She  had  been  a  high-minded  and  earnest 
young  girl,  and  it  certainly  seemed  that  she  must  now 
be  old  enough  to  be  an  adequate  chaperon  for  her 
companions.  Just  then  the  lamented  Mrs.  Snow  came 
in,  —  a  frivolous-looking  young  creature  of  about  twenty. 
For  propriety  of  conduct  or  force  of  character,  she 
could  not  be  compared  to  the  older  woman ;  and  yet 
the  older  woman  felt  that  she  could  not  go  to  a  party 
except  under  the  shelter  of  her  wing.  To  have  asserted 
herself  would  have  involved  one  of  two  results,  —  she 
would  either  have  been  looked  upon  as  altogether 
passee  or  as  extremely  eccentric.  She  was  not  ready 
to  accept  either  judgment. 

We  cannot  altogether  condemn  the  canon  of  society 
which   decrees  that  a  married  woman,  however  young, 


DEPENDENCE.  83 

is  a  suitable  guardian  for  girls,  since  it  is  really  true 
that  marriage  is  in  itself  an  education ;  and  many  an 
older  single  woman,  through  simple  innocence,  might 
allow  liberties  which  a  married  woman  would  be  too 
wise  to  suffer.  We  must  make  the  best  of  the  world 
as  we  find  it,  and  not  insist  that  things  are  ideal  merely 
because  we  wish  they  were.  And  yet,  when  Una,  with 
her  milk-white  lamb,  set  out  on  her  journey  through 
the  world,  the  king  of  beasts  himself  turned  aside  to 
defend  her.  The  only  sufficient  guard  for  a  girl  —  or 
for  any  one  —  lies  in  character.  Rebecca,  the  Jewess, 
was  able  to  defend  herself  effectually  from  Brian  du 
Bois-Guilbert,  when  she  seemed  to  be  completely  in 
his  power.  The  walls  of  the  mediaeval  castle  where 
she  was  a  prisoner,  could  not  be  pierced  by  any  cry 
for  help ;  but  the  certainty  of  the  Templar  that  if  he 
advanced  a  step  farther  his  victim  would  throw  herself 
from  the  window  and  be  dashed  to  pieces,  held  him 
more  securely  at  bay  than  if  she  had  been  attended 
by  a  dozen  armed  knights.  I  do  not  believe  that  the 
character  of  Rebecca  is  overdrawn,  though  it  is  cer- 
tainly unusual. 

We  are  often  obliged  to  exchange  poetry  for  prose, 
but  at  least  we  need  not  do  so  carelessly.  We  shall 
not  unnecessarily  exchange  life  for  conventionalities,  un- 
less we  love  conventionalities  more  than  life.  Yet  a  so- 
ciety girl  is  bound  with  such  heavy  chains  of  custom  and 


84  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

opinion,  and  it  is  so  difficult  for  her  to  know  the  point 
at  which  obedience  ceases  to  be  a  virtue,  —  for  it  is 
undoubtedly  a  great  virtue,  —  that  we  must  regard  her 
dependence  as  a  misfortune  and  not  as  a  fault.  Mar- 
ried women  might  help  her  by  bringing  about  a  change 
in  public  opinion,  but  she  cannot  help  herself  without 
being  painfully  misunderstood. 

A  thoughtful  girl  who  knew  the  shameful  excesses 
in  drinking  of  the  young  men  in  her  set,  resolved  that 
at  her  coming-out  party  there  should  be  no  wine.  Her 
family  admitted  that  she  was  morally  right,  and  that 
it  was  no  prudish  fancy  of  hers  that  champagne  was 
becoming  an  appalling  danger  in  that  particular  circle ; 
but  they  knew  better  than  she  did  what  fate  awaited  a 
girl  who  began  her  career  by  being  "  odd."  "  If  she 
were  a  great  beauty,"  said  her  father,  anxiously,  "we 
might  risk  it ;  but  she  is  only  a  simple,  quiet  girl.  I 
should  like  to  encourage  her  in  doing  this  good  thing ; 
and  yet  I  look  forward  and  feel  as  if  she  were  con- 
demning herself  to  be  an  old  maid  !  " 

Think  for  a  moment  how  the  purity  of  a  girl  is 
guarded  !  But  for  what  ?  That  she  may  be  given  at 
last  to  some  dissipated  young  man  who  would  ridicule 
and  despise  her  for  making  a  stand  against  the  fashion 
which  had  been  his  own  ruin  !  A  girl  must  sometimes 
face  the  question  whether  she  ought  to  bear  pain  for 
the  sake   of  a  larger  life.     Yet  one  who  would  grieve 


DEPENDENCE.  85 

her  father  and  mother  by  eccentricity  must  not  lightly 
step  aside  from  the  beaten  path.  Often,  too,  she  is  in 
real  need  of  the  guidance  society  requires.  And  so  her 
habits  are  formed  and  hardened.  Marriage  makes  a 
sharp  line  of  division  between  the  fledglings  and  the 
birds,  but  what  unmarried  woman  knows  when  the 
moment  has  come  to  put  off  girlhood?  Who  of  us 
ever  held  a  celebration  on  our  thirtieth  birthday,  to 
show  that  henceforward  we  might  be  trusted  to  do 
our  part  in  the  world  without  the  special  oversight  of 
a  married  woman?  Yet  most  of  us  knew  that  the 
irresponsibility  of  girlhood  was  really  over  by  the  time 
we  were  twenty. 

There  is  something  both  beautiful  and  touching  in 
the  way  girls  cling  to  their  girlhood.  The  instinct  of 
reverence  for  those  older  and  wiser  than  themselves 
ought  to  abide  with  them  to  old  age ;  but  that  is  a 
different  thing  from  a  weak  clinging  to  a  conventional 
support,  when  they  ought  to  be  strengthening  them- 
selves to  stand  alone.  A  woman,  in  marrying,  satisfies 
the  longing  to  depend  on  another  by  pledging  herself 
in  turn  to  give  help  to  another;  and  when  she  has 
children,  their  entire  dependence  on  her  is  a  complete 
lesson  in  true  self-reliance.  She  learns  naturally  her 
place  in  the  long  line  between  those  above  her  who 
can  guide  her,  and  those  below  who  must  be  guided 
by  her.  The  same  lesson  is  set  for  single  women  to 
learn,  but  the  words  are  not  so  plainly  written. 


SO  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

A  discussion  of  this  question  which  began  and  ended 
with  society  girls  would  be  most  inadequate,  since 
society  exists  in  such  a  microscopic  corner  of  the  world. 
Indeed,  by  far  the  majority  of  unmarried  women  are 
forced  to  be  independent  in  a  thousand  ways  which 
they  would  be  only  too  glad  to  avoid.  The  cruelty  of 
the  situation  is  usually  enhanced,  however,  by  society 
traditions.  A  factory  girl  must  go  about  alone  after 
dark ;  but  her  timidity  and  mortification  are  doubled 
by  the  knowledge  that  this  is  not  considered  the  right 
thing  for  a  lady  to  do.  She  seems  to  be  proclaiming 
to  every  boor  she  meets,  "  I  am  poor  and  friendless ; 
I  am  helpless  against  rudeness."  I  do  not  see  exactly 
how  this  can  be  changed.  It  is  neither  agreeable  nor 
safe  for  a  woman  to  go  about  by  herself  in  lonely  or 
dark  places ;  and  simply  because  all  cannot  have  pro- 
tection, it  would  be  puerile  to  say  that  the  custom  of 
protecting  those  who  can  be  cared  for  should  be 
despised.  But  there  are  customs  less  rooted  in  na- 
ture, —  at  least  at  present,  for  some  of  them  may  have 
had  a  natural  foundation  in  the  past,  —  whose  punc- 
tilious observance  by  the  comfortable  classes  adds  un- 
necessary bitterness  to  the  cup  of  the  poor.  The  small 
foot  of  the  aristocratic  Chinese  girl  seems  to  press 
thorns  into  the  pathway  of  every  poor  Chinese  girl  who 
has  to  use  her  feet  for  walking. 

A  woman's  physical  weakness  makes  some  unwelcome 


DEPENDENCE.  87 

dependence  unavoidable.  For  example,  it  is  hardly  safe 
in  most  places  even  in  the  civilized  world  for  a  woman 
to  live  alone.  Of  course  there  are  other  and  far  better 
reasons  why  she  ought  not  to  live  alone  ;  but  this  is  suf- 
ficient to  prevent  her  even  trying  the  experiment  at  any 
time  when  the  stress  of  circumstances  may  make  it  the 
only  way  of  escape  from  intolerable  dependence.  It  is 
not  best  that  a  man  should  live  alone,  either ;  but  when 
he  has  to  choose  between  that  and  an  unnatural  life  in 
the  home  of  other  people,  he  has  no  trouble  in  deciding 
what  to  do. 

A  rich  woman,  with  a  retinue  of  servants,  has  another 
measure  of  freedom ;  but  if  she  is  young,  public  opinion 
usually  steps  in  to  thwart  her  plans  for  a  home  after  her 
own  heart. 

Another  cause  of  dependence  is  that,  even  now, 
women  are  looked  upon  as  of  a  little  less  value  than  their 
brothers.  In  a  poor  family  every  nerve  will  be  strained 
to  give  the  boy  a  college  education  or  a  business  train- 
ing. The  girl  might  like  the  same  preparation  for  life, 
and  the  parents  may  wish  to  give  it  to  her ;  but  that 
would  be  very  hard,  and  after  all,  they  hope  marriage 
will  interpose  in  her  behalf;  so  she  receives  little  more 
than  a  domestic  education.  Perhaps  this  is  what  she 
most  needs:  but  if  she  is  to  live  a  single  life,  this  small 
outfit  almost  inevitably  forces  her  into  dependence.  She 
usually  has  to  be   the  superfluous  member  of  somebody 


83  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

else's  family.  She  is  not  perhaps  really  superfluous,  her 
services  may  be  priceless,  and  she  may  be  heartily  loved ; 
but  her  position  in  the  family  is  dangerously  like  that  of 
a  maid-of-all-work.  Still,  what  can  be  done?  If  only 
one  child  can  be  educated,  —  I  am  speaking,  of  course, 
of  the  education  which  brings  independence,  since  that 
which  produces  happiness  and  enlargement  of  the  mind 
belongs  equally  to  men  and  women,  —  should  it  not  be 
the  son?  He  must  be  self-sustaining,  and  all  the  more 
so  if  he  marries ;  while  the  daughter  will  probably  marry, 
and  if  so,  ought  to  be  provided  for.  It  is  very  hard, 
however,  when  well-to-do  parents  do  not  recognize  the 
daughter's  claim. 


FREEDOM.  89 


V. 

FREEDOM. 

FREEDOM  is  a  splendid  blessing.  Many  a  woman 
feels  it  to  be  an  ample  compensation  for  loneliness  ; 
many  an  ill-mated  wife  looks  with  envy  on  the  liberty  of 
her  unmarried  sister.  To  be  exempt  from  outward 
bonds  is  certainly  something  to  be  thankful  for.  But 
there  is  a  law  of  liberty  which  often  makes  the  married 
woman  live  and  grow  still  more  freely  than  one  who  re- 
mains single  ;  for  there  can  be  no  free  life  without  growth, 
and  nothing  nourishes  the  expanding  human  plant  like 
love.  A  man  whose  feet  are  shackled  cannot,  of  course, 
make  much  progress  in  the  path  of  life,  but  the  limits 
of  the  path  itself  help  him  to  reach  his  goal. 

Suppose,  then,  we  inquire  how  much  freedom  unmar- 
ried women  really  have,  and  how  far  it  is  a  blessing, 
regarding  these  questions  from  another  standpoint  than 
that  of  the  chapter  on  Dependence. 

A  great  many  claims  are  made  on  unmarried  women 
which  would  not  be  made  upon  them  if  they  were  mar- 
ried, simply  on  the  ground  that  they  have  nothing  to 
do.  I  heard  a  lady  say  a  few  days  ago  in  reference  to 
an  unmarried  friend :  "  I  urged  her  to  study  medicine 


90  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

whether  she  ever  practised  or  not,  because  then  her  mar- 
ried sister  would  not  telephone  to  her  to  pick  up  every  pin 
that  was  dropped."  It  is  an  amiable  weakness  to  yield 
to  such  claims  ;  still  it  is  certainly  a  weakness,  for  it  tends 
to  fritter  away  one  woman's  life  and  at  the  same  time 
to  foster  selfishness  in  everybody  else.  An  unmarried 
woman  on  whom  such  claims  are  made  can  be  free,  but 
the  price  of  freedom  is  courage. 

Is  there,  however,  any  truth  in  the  popular  notion  that 
an  unmarried  woman  ought  to  help  the  busy  married 
women  carry  out  their  multifarious  plans?  Is  there  any 
reason  why,  of  two  sisters,  the  one  who  is  single  should 
be  the  one  to  give  up  her  mode  of  life  to  care  for,  and 
perhaps  support,  the  dependent  members  of  the  family, 
the  old,  the  invalids,  and  the  orphans,  while  the  married 
sister  has  no  such  duty? 

Practically,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  cares  which 
seem  to  belong  equally  to  all  the  brothers  and  sisters  of 
a  family  do  fall  most  frequently  on  the  unmarried  women, 
and  that  the  same  may  often  be  said  of  the  expenses, 
except  in  rich  families  where  it  is  easy  to  share  them. 
My  conclusion  may  be  wrong,  but  it  has  not  been  reached 
hastily ;  and  I  believe  that  most  unmarried  women  have 
some  one  dependent  upon  them  for  either  care  or  sup- 
port, and  often  for  both. 

So  much  for  the  fact.  Ought  this  to  be  true  ?  It 
seems  oftener  more  fitting  that  the  care  of  parents  should 


FREEDOM. 


91 


be  given  to  the  unmarried  than  to  the  married  children. 
Most  of  us  owe  our  parents  more  than  we  can  ever  re- 
pay ;  but  the  duty  of  the  unmarried  to  parents  is  increased 
by  the  fact  that  here  they  have  a  special  power  to  fulfil 
their  duty.  There  has  been  much  cruel  and  unjust  jest- 
ing about  the  mother-in-law.  The  mother-in-law  is 
frequently  —  perhaps  usually  —  a  large-hearted  and  un- 
selfish woman  who  sincerely  wishes  to  help  her  son's  wife 
or  her  daughter's  husband.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  presence  of  either  a  father-in-law  or  a 
mother-in-law  in  a  family  introduces  an  element  which 
sometimes  kindles  strife.  The  ideas  of  one  generation 
are  never  those  of  another,  and  with  the  best  intentions 
on  both  sides,  there  is  clashing.  A  married  daughter 
may  be  willing  to  yield  her  own  tastes  and  even  some  of 
her  own  convictions  to  her  father  or  mother,  but  how 
can  she  yield  even  a  little  when  she  sees  that  she  thus 
narrows  the  happiness  of  her  husband  or  her  children? 
Of  course  there  are  thousands  of  instances  where  it  is 
right  and  well  that  the  parents  should  live  with  the  mar- 
ried children;  and  then  all  the  family,  from  the 
oldest  to  the  youngest,  must  cheerfully  sacrifice  many  in- 
nocent tastes  for  the  sake  of  the  others,  and  by  so  doing 
the  characters  of  all  are  ennobled  and  purified.  But 
unnecessary  sacrifices  do  not  ennoble.  Usually  there  is 
ample  opportunity  for  unselfishness  in  a  family  which 
consists  only  of  father,  mother,  and  children.     Any  new 


Q2  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

member  may  easily  disturb  the  harmony,  especially  one 
to  whom  either  of  the  heads  of  the  family  has  been 
subordinate. 

When  the  parents  live  with  an  unmarried  daughter,  the 
case  is  very  different.  She  may  or  may  not  yield  to 
them  in  all  points  ;  but  whether  she  does  or  not,  no  third 
person  whose  rights  must  be  respected  is  involved.  The 
question  can  be  settled  entirely  by  love  and  conscience. 

Further  than  this,  every  woman  —  and  every  man, 
too,  only  I  am  not  speaking  of  men  —  has  a  deep  need 
of  some  one  near  and  dear  to  cherish.  It  is  a  reason 
for  rejoicing  to  the  unmarried  sister  that  she  has  the 
right  to  lavish  care  on  her  parents ;  while  to  the  mar- 
ried sister  who  loves  them  as  well,  their  personal  care 
may  be  a  source  of  perplexity. 

Of  course,  this  is  not  a  universal  conclusion.  One 
child  who  is  married  may  have  a  home  congenial  in  every 
way  to  the  parents,  and  perhaps  they  would  fit  into  it  so 
perfectly  that  everybody  would  be  the  happier  for  their 
presence ;  while  a  daughter  who  was  sent  out  early  to 
earn  her  living,  and  who  has  spent  half  her  life  among 
very  different  scenes  and  companions  from  those  of  her 
childhood,  may  have  very  little  in  common  with  her 
parents,  even  though  she  loves  them  and  is  thoroughly 
dutiful. 

And  further,  when  the  matter  of  support  is  to  be  con- 
sidered, the  question  is  somewhat  changed.     Can  it  be 


FREEDOM.  93 

right  that  a  woman  who  is  supporting  herself  should  be 
called  away  from  her  work  to  take  the  personal  care  of 
others?  It  is  sometimes  necessary,  but  the  call  is  often 
made  when  this  cannot  be  said.  Here  is  a  concrete 
illustration.  Suppose  an  old  gentleman,  with  a  small  an- 
nuity and  a  pleasant  home,  loses  his  wife.  All  the  children 
are  married  but  one  daughter,  who  is  a  teacher.  Of 
course  the  father  might  give  up  his  home  and  live  with  any 
one  of  the  children  ;  but  he  does  not  like  to  do  this,  and 
it  seems  to  everybody  that  the  most  agreeable  arrange- 
ment would  be  for  the  teacher  to  come  home.  She  does 
so,  and  spends  the  next  ten  or  fifteen  years  in  caring  for 
her  father.  She  enjoys  this  life,  and  is  glad  to  feel  that  it 
is  right.  Then  the  father  dies,  and  the  annuity  dies  with 
him.  The  daughter  is  now  thrown  on  her  own  resources 
too  late  in  life  to  be  able  to  work  to  any  advantage.  This 
is  certainly  so,  in  the  very  common  case  of  a  woman 
who  is  already  between  thirty-five  and  forty  when  she  is 
called  home.  In  the  next  ten  years,  methods  of  teach- 
ing change  so  much  that  even  if  she  might  still  be  a 
good  teacher,  nobody  quite  believes  it,  and  she  is  thus 
stranded  at  forty-five  or  fifty,  when  she  is,  after  all,  still 
full  of  life,  and  forced  into  a  position  of  unwelcome  de- 
pendence for  the  remainder  of  her  days.  The  brothers 
and  sisters  who  were  not  quite  ready  to  take  care  of 
their  own  father  when  they  were  younger,  are  now  obliged, 
perhaps,  to  take  care  of  the  sister  when  they  are  older, 


94  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN 

and  may  feel  the  burden  more,  and  in  the  mean  time,  as 
the  sister  is  still  young  enough  to  work,  they  cannot  help 
feeling  that  somehow  or  other  she  could  just  as  well 
earn  her  living  ;  while,  if  she  cannot,  they  feel  they  have 
a  claim  on  her  for  every  trivial  service.  In  a  case  like 
this,  the  daughter  makes  a  great  sacrifice,  but  it  is  a 
sacrifice  of  which  no  one  takes  account.  The  compen- 
sation is  indeed  ample.  Because  we  cannot  hope  to  be 
taken  care  of  ourselves,  is  it  no  pleasure  to  take  care  of 
others,  especially  to  shield  the  old  age  of  one  we  love 
from  toil  and  mortification?  Most  women  make  this 
sacrifice  so  gladly  that  they  do  not  even  know  it  to  be  a 
sacrifice,  —  they  act  with  full  freedom  ;  but  has  anybody 
a  right  to  ask  the  sacrifice  from  them  ?  I  hardly  think 
so,  and  yet  the  cases  are  not  rare  in  which  a  woman  ought 
to  ask  it  of  herself.  It  is  usually  a  duty  as  well  as  a 
privilege.  The  privilege  rightly  fills  one's  thought ;  but 
it  cannot  be  laid  aside,  as  if  it  were  merely  a  privilege. 
The  married  brothers  and  sisters  would,  however,  un- 
questionably have  a  related  duty.  They  ought  year  by 
year  to  make  up  the  sum  the  teacher  could  have  laid 
aside  if  she  had  continued  her  work,  regarding  it  not  as 
a  gift,  but  as  her  due,  except  in  case  the  parent  has  an 
equivalent  property  which  can  be  bequeathed  to  the 
daughter  who  takes  the  care. 

But    suppose    a  woman   must  continue   to    earn   her 
living;   then  any  personal  care  of  others  is  almost  be- 


FREEDOM. 


95 


yond  her  strength.  Thousands  of  women  undertake 
this,  and  their  unselfish  love  does  wonders ;  but  to 
overwork  is  added  constant  anxiety,  and  in  the  end 
comes  a  premature  breaking  down.  When  the  break 
comes,  there  is  no  one  to  take  care  of  the  unmar- 
ried woman.  A  widow  wears  herself  out  in  rearing  her 
children,  but  in  the  end  the  children  care  for  her.  The 
unmarried  woman,  on  the  other  hand,  stands  alone. 
This  is  also  a  strong  reason  why  a  single  woman  ought  not 
to  be  expected  to  support  anybody  but  herself.  If  she 
does  not  lay  aside  enough  for  her  old  age,  she  must  be 
dependent  on  those  too  far  removed  from  her  to  feel  her 
dependence  to  be  quite  natural  and  right.  If  a  woman 
could  ordinarily  earn  as  much  as  a  man,  of  course  it 
would  be  her  duty  to  help  in  the  support  of  dependents, 
whatever  the  risk  to  her  own  future ;  but,  actually,  a 
man,  even  with  a  family  to  support,  would  not  often  be 
obliged  to  make  such  sacrifices  in  helping  those  beyond 
the  circle  as  a  woman  must  make.  The  duty  of  the 
married  woman  whose  income  is  received  entirely  from 
her  husband,  is  by  no  means  clear ;  and  yet,  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  brothers  and  sisters  who  marry  do 
so  to  please  themselves ;  and  has  anybody  a  right  to 
marry  with  the  understanding  that  if  the  worst  comes  to 
the  worst,  the  duties  which  one  would  have  had  in  the 
event  of  remaining  single  are  to  be  added  to  those  which 
naturally  fall  on  the  sister  who  does  remain  single  ? 


96  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

While  no  rule  can  be  made  to  fit  all  cases,  it  seems 
generally  to  be  true  that  the  support  of  the  dependents 
of  a  family  should  fall  on  the  men  of  the  family,  or,  if 
that  is  not  practicable,  that  it  should  be  divided  among 
all  the  brothers  and  sisters  proportionately  to  their 
means. 

Further,  in  the  case  of  invalid  brothers  and  sisters,  or 
orphan  nephews  and  nieces,  is  not  the  duty  of  the  mar- 
ried to  give  personal  care  as  great  as  that  of  the  single? 
The  invalid  or  the  child  may,  it  is  true,  be  a  source  of 
discord  in  the  home,  and  the  temperaments  already 
existing  there  may  be  such  as  to  justify  one  in  objecting 
to  any  addition  to  the  family ;  nevertheless  the  authority 
of  the  father  and  mother  would  not  be  weakened  nor 
the  plan  of  life  seriously  altered  by  such  an  addition ; 
while  the  entire  life  of  the  unmarried  woman  would  be 
changed  if  she  had  to  devote  herself  to  the  care  of  a 
dependent.  Circumstances  may  indeed  make  it  better 
that  the  single  woman  should,  after  all,  assume  this  care. 
No  doubt  any  tie  is  a  greater  blessing  than  the  absence 
of  all  ties ;  and  yet  I  believe,  paradoxically,  that  an  un- 
just burden  is  often  laid  on  the  single  woman.  Except 
in  the  case  of  parents,  can  any  one  have  the  slightest 
claim  on  her  which  would  not  hold  equally  if  she  were 
married?  We  are  all  bound  "  to  do  broad  justice  where 
we  stand  ;  "  and  whether  single  or  married,  we  must  have 
that   outgoing  love  which    prompts  to   help    everybody 


FREEDOM. 


97 


about  us  to  the  full  measure  of  our  ability.  But  it  is 
not  for  others  to  judge  of  our  ability.  If  we  think  we 
can  better  accomplish  the  end  of  our  being  by  living  a 
full  life  according  to  our  own  plans  than  by  relinquish- 
ing them  in  favour  of  the  plans  of  somebody  else,  we 
have  the  right  to  follow  our  judgment  even  if  somebody 
else  thinks  it  hard  that  one  so  free  as  we  are  should  not 
run  to  help  her  in  her  own  embarrassments.  It  may 
be  —  it  probably  will  be  —  our  duty  to  give  up  most  of 
our  cherished  purposes  for  the  sake  of  others ;  but  the 
giving  up  must  be  free,  and  not  in  response  to  a  demand 
to  stand  and  deliver.  Here  unmarried  women  are 
still  practically  bound,  but  they  are  absolutely  free, 
though  generally  the  best  use  they  can  make  of  their 
freedom  is  to  give  gladly  what  no  one  has  a  right  to 
ask  from  them. 

The  injustice  of  claims  made  upon  them  is  often  so 
great  that  it  is  pleasant  to  see  a  woman  who  resists 
them.  Because  one  is  not  to  have  the  happiness  of  a 
married  life,  is  she  to  have  no  life  of  her  own?  Are 
other  people  to  furnish  her  with  duties  and  occupations, 
and  is  she  to  have  nothing  to  say  about  what  she 
shall  do? 

There  is,  however,  a  very  different  side  to  this  ques- 
tion. A  high-spirited  young  woman,  who  found  teach- 
ing intolerable,  once  said  to  me  :  "  Oh  !  what  is  the  use 
of  earning  money  just  to  keep  myself  alive  ?     How  dif- 

7 


98  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

ferent  I  should  feel  if  I  were  working  to  hold  the  family 
together !  " 

A  woman  asks  herself,  not  what  must  I  do,  but  what 
may  I  do  ?  She  will  not  let  others  bind  her  with  chains, 
but  she  will  bind  herself  with  the  cords  of  love.  The 
compensation  for  being  free  from  the  engrossing  love  of 
husband  and  children  is  that  she  has  the  privilege  of 
spending  herself  for  her  parents,  or  her  invalid  brothers 
and  sisters,  or  her  orphan  nephews  and  nieces.  The 
unmarried  aunt  cheerfully  pours  out  the  savings  of  years 
to  educate  her  nephew  whose  father  is  too  poor  to 
help  him,  and  she  enjoys  his  whole  college  career  as 
much  as  he  does  himself.  But  would  he  be  worth  edu- 
cating if  this  arrangement  had  been  his  own  proposal? 

It  is  the  unspoken,  unthought  claims  of  others  which 
should  and  do  appeal  most  to  the  unmarried  woman. 
But  the  great  danger  in  resisting  encroachments  on  our 
rights  is  that  we  may  gradually  settle  into  the  belief  that 
we  have  no  duties ;  yet  we  all  have  the  duties  next  us. 

The  most  complete  freedom  frees  us  from  ourselves. 
When  duty  ceases  to  be  duty  because  we  love  it,  we 
are  entirely  free.  I  was  once  touched  by  an  anecdote 
told  me  about  a  sweet-faced  woman  who  had  just  mar- 
ried a  widower  with  a  large  family  of  turbulent  boys. 
"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  a  friend  asked  her  in 
consternation.  "  You  will  have  to  work  day  and  night 
for  them."     "  Would  n't  you  work  for  those  you  loved?  " 


FREEDOM.  99 

asked  the  woman  in  reply.  She  married  in  this  spirit, 
and  the  boys  came  at  once  under  her  spell.  They 
loved  her  and  helped  her,  and  she  made  men  of  them 
all.     She   did  work  hard,  but  she  worked  freely. 

The  married  are  as  free  in  the  best  ways  as  the  single. 
"  The  prison  unto  which  we  doom  ourselves  no  prison 
is."  But  the  single  are  free  too.  Knowing  that  no 
one  can  make  a  just  demand  upon  us,  leaves  us  free  to 
use  all  our  powers. 

And  sometimes  a  woman  knows  that  she  has  a  special 
work  to  do.  Without  being  a  genius,  she  may  be  able 
to  do  that  in  art,  or  literature,  or  music,  or  medicine, 
or  teaching,  or  nursing,  which  not  only  gives  her  high 
pleasure  and  completely  develops  her  nature,  but  which 
is  a  greater  blessing  to  others  than  any  personal  service 
she  could  render  them.  Of  course,  if  the  pinch  comes, 
it  is  better  for  her  to  give  up  her  career  than  for  her 
married  sister  to  neglect  husband  and  children.  Simply 
as  a  career  it  is  not  of  much  consequence.  No  career 
whose  mainspring  is  ambition  is  worth  fighting  for.  But 
it  is  worth  while  to  use  all  our  faculties  in  the  best  way ; 
and  as  this  is  what  we  usually  try  to  do  in  the  career 
we  choose,  we  must  not  lightly  give  it  up.  There  are 
some  gentle  souls  who  seem  born  to  do  unnoticed  little 
services  for  everybody  ;  and  as  many  busy  married  women 
sorely  need  their  help,  such  women  need  not  count 
their  lives  wasted,  provided  they  help  the  right  people. 


IOO  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

The  danger  is,  they  will  help  the  tyrannical,  who  do  not 
scruple  to  use  them.  Our  beloved  Miss  Matty  of 
u  Cranford  "  says :  "  I  did  all  I  could  to  set  Deborah 
at  liberty ;  for  I  knew  I  was  good  for  little,  and  that  my 
best  work  in  the  world  was  to  do  odd  jobs  quietly  and 
set  others  at  liberty."  But  Deborah  was  a  single  woman 
much  better  able  to  help  Miss  Matty  than  Miss  Matty 
was  to  help  her  ;  and  it  was  Deborah's  masterful  dispo- 
sition which  had  at  the  outset  prevented  Miss  Matty 
from  having  a  home  of  her  own. 

Nevertheless,  of  these  two  sisters,  Miss  Matty  was 
most  truly  free.  The  service  which  we  render  from  love 
is  always  free  service.  Those  who  insist  on  having  their 
own  way  in  everything  are  the  true  slaves,  —  slaves  to 
their  own  passions,  which  are  always  the  hardest  of 
taskmasters.  Inward  freedom  is  never  possible  except 
to  the  large-hearted.  But  the  outward  freedom  of  any 
life  depends  principally  on  courage,  secondarily  on  un- 
conventionally;  and  so  far  as  circumstances  go,  we 
must  admit  that  money  has  more  power  in  giving  us 
freedom  than  we  are  at  all  willing  to  believe  that  it 
ought  to  have. 

On  the  whole,  must  we  not  come  to  the  rather  un- 
expected conclusion  that  unmarried  women  are  neither 
more  nor  less  free  than  the  married,  considered  simply 
as    the    married.     But    a  woman    who  is  unhappily    or 


FREEDOM.  IOI 

unworthily  married  is  indeed  bound  in  a  way  that  makes 
every  single  woman  shudder. 

A  woman  may  be  tied  to  the  most  tyrannical  father, 
the  most  insipid  mother,  the  most  miserly  brother,  the 
most  exacting  sister,  or,  delicate  and  timid  herself,  she 
may  be  called  upon  to  support  half-a-dozen  feeble  and 
querulous  relatives ;  and  still  she  is  an  absolute  mon- 
arch in  comparison  to  the  woman  who  is  wrongly 
married.  She  is  still  essentially  free,  and  there  will 
always  be  hours  when  she  will  have  a  delicious  and  re- 
freshing sense  of  her  freedom. 

Freedom  is  really  menaced  when  a  woman  consents 
to  a  wrong  marriage ;  and  no  marriage  is  so  far  wrong 
as  that  in  which  the  woman  wishes  herself  to  tyrannize. 
For  one  who  marries  with  a  low  ideal,  there  is  no  hope 
except  in  the  discipline  she  brings  on  herself,  for  that 
may  rouse  her  otherwise  dormant  higher  nature. 

In  the  mean  time  the  single  women  who  eagerly  rec- 
ognize the  claims  justly  made  upon  them  both  for  love 
and  work,  and  who  firmly  ignore  all  unjust  claims,  set 
the  standard  of  a  free,  useful,  and  joyous  life  for  the 
unmarried  which  will  in  time  save  many  a  weak  sister 
from  rushing  foolishly  into  the  prison-house  of  an  un- 
suitable marriage. 


102  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 


VI. 

PROBLEMS   AND   OPPORTUNITIES. 

"  npRANQUILLITY,"  says  the  author  of  "  Thorn- 
-1-  dale,"  "  is  to  be  obtained  not  by  moderating  all 
passions ;  it  is  to  be  sought  only  by  our  delivering  our- 
selves up  to  one.  There  is  no  garden  virtue  which  can 
lie  on  beds  of  roses  in  indolence  and  security ;  but  there 
is  a  virtue  to  whose  more  enraptured  gaze  the  wilder- 
ness becomes  glad,  and  the  desert  blossoms  as  the 
rose." 

Most  women  feel  this,  and  are  not  quite  happy  unless 
they  are  spending  all  their  strength  for  some  one  person. 
This  is  seen  in  the  unmarried  as  often  as  in  the  married. 
The  absorbing  love  of  one  woman  for  another,  or  of  a 
woman  for  a  child,  illustrates  it. 

But  if,  as  so  often  happens,  we  are  not  permitted  to 
minister  to  the  one  friend  —  be  it  man,  woman,  or 
child  —  to  whom  exclusive  devotion  would  be  so  easy, 
though  sometimes,  unfortunately,  so  narrowing,  what  is 
the  opportunity  which  this  experience  opens  to  us? 
For  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  every  special  limitation 
bears  with  it  a  special  opportunity.     It  certainly  cannot 


PROBLEMS   AND    OPPORTUNITIES. 


103 


be  that  we  have  an  opportunity  for  indolent  indifference. 
It  must  be  that  when  any  heart  has  once  been  filled 
with  unselfish  love,  though  the  flood  may  not  flow  in 
the  channels  we  should  choose  for  it,  it  must  flow 
through  other  parched  ways  and  bless  other  waste  lives. 
We  have  then  the  opportunity  to  give  large  love  to 
many,  because  we  are  not  allowed  to  engross  ourselves 
with  one. 

Is  it  not  true  that  single  women,  though  missing  the 
two  closest  relations  of  human  beings,  have  greater  op- 
portunities than  other  people  for  testing  the  value  of 
all  other  relations  in  life?  The  daughter,  for  instance, 
who  lives  with  her  father  and  mother  during  her  mature 
years,  knows  heights  and  depths  in  them  which  no  girl, 
however  loving,  can  have  found  out  when,  as  a  bride, 
she  leaves  the  old  home. 

The  fancy  in  youth  is  apt  to  turn  away  from  things 
near  at  hand.  We  feel  the  thorns  in  the  roses  we  our- 
selves wear  most  quickly,  and  we  sometimes  throw  the 
flowers  away,  thinking  that  the  next  we  gather  will  not 
wound  us.  But  when  we  have  learned  how  to  adjust 
our  roses  so  that  we  see  their  colour  and  breathe  their 
fragrance,  while  the  thorns  no  longer  pierce  us,  the 
very  fact  that  they  are  ours  makes  them  dearer.  Some- 
times, it  is  true,  the  friction  between  relations  grows 
with  years ;  but  aside  from  the  very  exceptional  cases 
where  there  is  deliberate  wrong- doing,  this  ought  not 


104  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

to  be  true.  It  would  not  be  so,  if  we  could  form  the 
habit  of  looking  for  the  best  in  all,  and  ignoring  foibles 
which,  though  irritating,  are  superficial.  This  I  believe 
to  be  the  meaning  of  a  friend's  remark  that  one  of  the 
great  lessons  of  life  is  to  learn  to  put  up  with  our 
relations. 

But  it  is  not,  of  course,  for  other  people  to  teach  us 
this  lesson.  I  once  knew  a  charming  old  gentleman, 
who  had  an  only  daughter.  His  dismay  at  her  engage- 
ment was  pathetically  amusing.  "You  know,"  he  ex- 
plained, "  it  was  never  my  plan  that  Eloise  should  be 
married  at  all.  I  have  formed  her  tastes,  and  she  suits 
me  exactly.  We  could  have  led  an  ideal  life  together." 
Eloise,  however,  did  not  think  so,  though  she  loved  her 
father  dearly ;  and  probably  she  was  right  in  dancing 
merrily  off  with  her  gay  young  lover. 

A  young  lady  endeavouring  to  comfort  another  for  the 
loss  of  a  lover,  said,  "  Now  you  will  be  free  to  take  care 
of  your  poor  brother,  and  make  a  home  for  him."  The 
"poor  brother"  was  a  fascinating,  dissipated  fellow,  most 
injudiciously  brought  up,  who  needed  nothing  so  much 
as  the  home  his  beautiful  sister  could  make  for  him.  But 
she  turned  pale  at  the  suggestion,  and  drew  her  breath 
hard.  "Perhaps  that  is  to  be  my  fate,"  she  said  ;  "per- 
haps I  am  to  be  tied  to  Dan  for  life."  Yet  she  loved  him 
very  tenderly,  and  was  ready  to  make  many  sacrifices  for 
him.     If  she  ever  had  undertaken  to  make  a  home  for 


PROBLEMS   AND   OPPORTUNITIES.  105 

him,  there  is  little  doubt  that  her  ardent  nature  would 
have  found  full  opportunity  to  spend  itself,  and  it  is 
possible  that  she  might  have  made  a  new  man  of  him ; 
but  it  was  certainly  officious  in  her  well-meaning  friend 
to  offer  such  a  suggestion. 

It  has  sometimes  occurred  to  me  that  sisters-in-law 
are  obtuse  in  regard  to  their  opportunities.  The  single 
woman  has  a  great  deal  to  learn  from  her  sister-in-law, 
for  a  clear  reason.  However  dearly  a  brother  may  love 
a  sister,  her  faults  are  always  more  evident  to  him  than 
the  faults  of  other  women,  because  he  knows  her  so 
well ;  and  in  choosing  a  wife  he  is  most  attracted  by  a 
woman  of  a  different  strain.  Whatever  the  faults  of  the 
wife,  her  virtues  are  usually  exactly  those  which  the  sis- 
ter needs  most  to  cultivate.  Of  course  married  as  well 
as  single  women  miss  their  opportunities ;  but  the  mis- 
sion of  this  volume  is  not  to  the  married. 

Mr.  Alfred  Wallace,  in  a  paper  on  "  Human  Selec- 
tion," published  a  year  or  two  ago  in  the  "  Fortnightly," 
admitting  that  some  of  the  most  discouraging  possibili- 
ties of  Darwinism  may  be  true,  finds  the  remedy  in  the 
constantly  increasing  number  of  women  of  fine  character 
and  cultivated  minds  who  will  not  marry  inferior  men. 
He  thinks  the  present  preponderance  of  women  not 
likely  to  continue,  so  that  in  future  women  will  have  a 
larger  choice  than  at  present ;  and  he  believes  that  all 
the  signs  point  to  their  using  their  power  so  well  that 


106  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

marriage  will  be  a  far  happier  and  better  thing  than  is  now 
common.  Many  thoughtful  people  who  have  had  wide 
opportunities  for  observation  declare  that  the  average 
culture  among  women  in  the  most  progressive  countries 
is  already  above  that  of  men,  though  it  is  true  that  the 
number  of  great  women  is  still  very  small.  An  Easterner 
going  West,  for  instance,  is  often  dismayed  to  find  so 
few  men  in  the  cities  intellectually  fitted  to  associate 
with  their  wives  and  sisters.  This  would  be  appalling, 
if  it  were  likely  to  last.  Some  predict  that  it  will  lead 
to  the  discontinuance  of  marriage,  on  the  ground  that 
men  do  not  generally  admire  intellectual  women ;  but 
even  if  that  is  true,  there  is  a  level  below  which  a  culti- 
vated man  will  not  sink  in  choosing  a  wife.  And  it  is 
hardly  possible  that  the  present  state  of  things  should  be 
more  than  a  necessary  phase  of  development.  As  a 
recent  writer  suggests,  the  cultivated  women  who  do 
marry  will  see  to  it  that  their  sons  are  not  allowed  to 
grow  up  uncultivated.  Moreover,  the  many  women  who 
teach  boys  are  having  an  appreciable  influence  on  the 
standards  of  their  pupils.  A  striking  illustration  of  this 
is  the  surprising  difference  between  the  measures  of  the 
late  King  of  Siam  and  the  present  one,  due  to  the  fact 
that  this  king  was  instructed  by  Mrs.  Leonowens. 

The  cause  of  the  contrast  between  men  and  women 
seems  to  be  mainly  the  requirements  of  business.  Busi- 
ness was  never  so  exacting  as  now,  and  devotion  to  it 


PROBLEMS   AND   OPPORTUNITIES  107 

often  reacts  on  a  man's  character  and  makes  him  inca- 
pable of  using  his  opportunities  for  culture.  It  seems 
inevitable  that  there  should  be  some  change  in  economic 
conditions  before  long ;  and  here,  even  if  women  have 
not  much  direct  influence,  yet  a  large  body  of  self- 
supporting  women,  to  whom  material  things  are  valuable 
simply  as  the  necessary  foundation  for  the  higher  life, 
will  insensibly  leaven  the  whole  community.  In  spend- 
ing the  little  money  they  earn  themselves,  they  have 
occasion  to  choose  every  day  between  essentials  and 
non-essentials.  They  are  obliged  to  discriminate  be- 
tween the  conventionalities  which  have  deep  natural 
roots,  and  those  which  are  artificial.  This  lesson  can 
hardly  be  lost  upon  them ;  and  in  fact,  it  seems  already 
to  have  borne  abundant  fruit.  And  the  social  scales  are 
very  differently  balanced  in  a  country  where  indepen- 
dent educated  women  are  common,  from  what  they 
are  in  a  country  of  ignorant  and  dependent  women. 

It  seems,  then,  that  the  body  of  unmarried  women  of 
to-day  have  a  certain  work  before  them  which  they 
are  likely  to  do,  though  perhaps  unconsciously.  When 
women  were  altogether  dependent  on  men,  they  had 
little  power  of  choice.  Now,  the  ability  to  take  care  of 
themselves  makes  it  perfectly  easy  to  choose  a  single  life 
in  place  of  any  marriage  which  is  not  ideal.  That 
high-minded  women  so  often  refuse  family  ties  may  not 
be  for  the  immediate  benefit  of  the  world,  yet  it  has  an 


108  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

educative  influence  which   seems  likely  finally  to  raise 
the  standard  of  marriage  among  men  as  well  as  women. 

And  here  it  seems  necessary  to  say  a  protesting  word 
about  the  standards  common  among  men,  though  in  a 
book  like  this  it  is  the  faults  of  women  which  concern 
us  most.  I  suppose  we  have  all  been  painfully  struck 
sometimes  by  finding  that  some  man  whose  ideal  in 
most  respects  is  far  higher  than  our  own,  still  holds 
what  seem  to  us  low  opinions  about  marriage.  For 
instance,  there  is  Lydgate  in  "  Middlemarch,"  —  an  up- 
right man,  with  grand  aims.  We  expect  everything  of 
him  ;  yet  his  first  love  is  aptly  described  as  the  "  divine 
cow,"  and  his  second  is  Rosamond  Vincy.  Rosamond 
shatters  all  his  hopes  of  leading  a  large  and  usefu-1  life, 
and  we  pity  him.  Yet  how  can  we  help  saying  that  he 
received  exactly  what  he  deserved?  That  he  was  de- 
ceived in  Rosamond  makes  little  difference,  for  he 
deceived  himself.  He  did  not  love  her  for  any  high 
qualities  he  found  or  fancied  in  her ;  he  loved  her  for 
her  beauty  and  her  apparent  deference  to  himself,  which 
he  was  mistaken  in  believing  indicated  sweetness  of 
character.  Lydgate  is  the  creation  of  George  Eliot; 
but  we  have  all  been  saddened  by  the  sight  of  other 
Lydgates.  Some  of  the  very  best  of  men  still  cling 
to  the  belief  of  Milton,  that  man  was  made  "  for  God 
only,"  and  that  woman  was  made  "for  God  in  him." 
They  do  not  care  to  have  a  woman  develop  her  whole 


PROBLEMS   AND   OPPORTUNITIES.  109 

nature,  but  only  those  parts  which  will  make  her  cling 
more  blindly  to  her  husband,  whatever  his  faults. 
High-minded  women  are  so  repelled  by  this  attitude 
that  some  of  them  hardly  recognize  any  real  merit  in 
men.  A  simply  good  woman  shuts  her  eyes  to  the 
unpleasant  truth,  and  offers  herself  up  on  the  altar  with 
devotion.  An  intellectual  woman  can  hardly  do  this ; 
she  will  not  give  up  her  individuality  to  one  who  does 
not  ask  for  the  best  in  her.  This  is  one  reason  why  so 
many  intellectual  women  stand  alone.  Of  course  they 
do  so  at  their  peril.  A  good  man,  full  of  truth  and 
strength,  is  the  most  powerful  help  any  woman  can 
have  in  perfecting  and  enlarging  her  life.  Even  with 
the  blemish  on  his  character  of  disregarding  the  best  in 
women,  such  a  man  may  be  worthy  of  profound  respect 
as  well  as  love ;  and  from  a  woman  who  loved  him  he 
might  learn  the  lesson  which  would  complete  his  life. 
But,  alas  !  the  woman  who  could  help  him  often  repels 
him  by  her  hostile  attitude ;  her  anger  at  his  misunder- 
standing of  her  nature  disguises  all  her  real  sweetness, 
and  the  two  are  foes  when  they  should  be  friends. 

It  is  only  fair  to  say,  after  this  arraignment  of  men, 
that  the  standards  of  men  in  America  are  higher  than 
those  in  any  other  nation,  and  that  every  year  we  see 
a  perceptible  growth  in  their  pure  and  chivalric  regard 
for  women.  They  may  not  be  so  careful  to  offer  a 
woman  a  seat  in  a  crowded  car  as  they  used  to  be,  — 


110  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

and  I  am  sorry  for  this,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of 
women  as  for  love  of  the  old-time  courtesy,  —  but  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  thoughtful  man  or  woman  will  dis- 
pute the  fact  that  every  year  men  are  more  and  more 
ashamed  to  offer  women  the  dregs  of  a  wasted  life ;  that 
there  are  more  and  more  men  who  live  lives  of  such 
purity  and  unselfishness  that  while  they  must  uplift  even 
the  most  trivial  woman  in  their  circle,  the  men  them- 
selves feel  a  deeper  and  deeper  need  of  a  higher  com- 
panionship than  used  to  satisfy. 

Nevertheless,  the  majority  of  men  do  not  yet  ask  for 
the  best  in  women.  In  justice,  however,  I  admit  that 
most  women  do  not  ask  for  the  best  in  men.  Men 
and  women  do  not  apply  the  same  standards  to  each 
other,  but  there  is  not  much  difference  in  the  loftiness 
of  the  standards.  There  are  probably  as  many  noble 
and  truthful  men  tied  to  petty  women  as  there  are 
sweet-natured  women  bound  to  selfish  men.  Neither 
men  nor  women  can  as  yet  be  often  said  either  to  ask  or 
to  give  the  best  in  marriage.  And  however  painful  it 
may  be  for  a  woman  to  find  she  is  not,  after  all,  married 
to  a  hero,  it  must  be  far  worse  to  realize  that  she  her- 
self falls  short  in  the  marriage  relation.  Single  women 
sometimes  congratulate  themselves  that  at  least  they 
have  not  been  a  disappointment  to  any  one. 

Of  course  a  very  imperfect  woman  may  demand  per- 
fection in  a   husband ;    and   however  magnificently  she 


PROBLEMS    AND    OPPORTUNITIES.  m 

may  talk  about  her  ideals,  it  is  doubtful  whether  they 
are  really  as  high  as  those  of  some  humbler  soul  who 
gladly  spends  herself  and  is  spent  in  the  loving  service 
of  some  man  far  inferior  to  her.  I  have  heard  of  a 
woman  who  has  no  patience  with  George  Eliot's  Romola 
in  her  treatment  of  Tito.  She  always  speaks  of  her  as 
"that  stuck-up  Romola."  Of  course  she  is  a  married 
woman.  Such  a  heroine  as  Romola  appeals  more  surely 
to  the  unmarried,  whose  great  happiness  it  is  that  they 
never  feel  it  to  be  a  possible  duty  to  "  grow  coarse 
to  sympathetic  clay."  A  woman  like  Margaret,  in 
Charles  Dudley  Warner's  "  Little  Journey  in  the  World," 
feels  herself  almost  forced  to  shut  her  eyes  to  her  hus- 
band's faults ;  and  in  trying  to  believe  in  him  whom 
she  has  sworn  to  honour,  she  loses  her  own  soul. 

I  suppose  most  single  women  have  seen  some  such 
spectacle  among  their  married  friends.  The  wife  is  as 
lovely  and  decorous  as  when  she  was  a  girl,  but  she  has 
modified  her  opinions,  not  because  she  has  grown 
wiser,  but  because  she  cannot  bear  to  condemn  her 
husband.  The  opinion  may  be  trivial  in  itself,  —  for 
instance,  it  may  have  to  do  only  with  the  tariff  or  the 
suffrage,  —  but  its  burial  is  a  kind  of  dishonesty,  and  its 
destruction  a  kind  of  murder.  I  believe  that  all  single 
women  should  rejoice  that  no  such  compromise  with 
truth  is  demanded  of  them. 

I  once  overheard  some  gentlemen  talking  in  a  railway- 


112  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

car.  One  of  them  with  a  peculiarly  clear  and  open 
countenance  said  heartily :  "  I  am  glad  my  profession 
is  teaching.  It  is  such  clean  work  Nobody  has  a 
right  to  ask  me  to  do  a  mean  or  underhand  thing." 
Single  women  have  the  same  reason  for  rejoicing. 
Here  everything  depends  on  the  ideal  in  youth.  The 
lover  of  Mr.  Warner's  beautiful  Margaret  is  so  charming 
that  we  cannot  wonder  he  was  irresistible.  Still,  he 
had  no  high  aims,  and  we  feel  that  the  germ  of  decay 
must  have  been  even  in  the  fine  Margaret  at  the  outset 
to  make  her  instant  surrender  to  such  a  man  possible. 
Yet  we  must  always  allow  for  the  vagueness  of  purpose 
which  characterizes  most  young  people,  unless  they 
have  been  exceptionally  situated.  A  delightful  woman 
once  said  to  me  :  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  suppose  my 
sister  and  I  should  both  have  been  married  long  ago,  if 
we  had  not  had  such  a  splendid  father.  He  and  his 
friends  have  spoiled  us  for  the  young  men  we  see  who 
cannot  compare  in  the  least  with  them."  It  is  a  great 
protection  to  any  girl  to  know  one  thoroughly  noble 
man. 

While  it  would  be  presumptuous  for  any  woman, 
knowing  herself  to  be  full  of  faults,  to  demand  perfec- 
tion in  a  husband,  the  weakest  has  a  right  to  ask  of  a 
man  that  his  face  shall  be  set  towards  the  best. 


SUCCESS.  113 


VII. 

SUCCESS. 

IT  is  not  till  a  woman  has  put  herself  entirely  outside 
the  possibility  of  marriage  that  she  will  seriously 
consider  what  are  the  elements  of  a  successful  single 
life.  Yet  this  is  a  very  interesting  question,  the  more 
so  because  any  one  who  has  to  work  under  some  ex- 
ceptional disadvantage  may  solve  problems  affecting  the 
whole  generation.  A  poor,  weak  woman  working  alone, 
who  lives  what  all  acknowledge  to  be  a  successful  life, 
certainly  indicates  the  way  to  a  partial  solution  of  some 
of  the  social  questions  agitating  the  civilized  world,  on 
the  principle  that  every  machine  is  as  strong  as  its 
weakest  part.  The  virtues  which  are  indispensable  to 
both  the  happiness  and  success  of  single  women  are  of 
almost  equal  value  to  the  young  women  who  will  finally 
marry. 

If  we  admit,  as  many  of  us  do,  that  the  best  result  of 
the  discipline  of  our  lives  is  to  teach  us  love,  we  must 
remember  that  while  those  who  marry  have  special  help 
in  learning  this  lesson,  yet  of  all  women  in  the  world, 
the  one  who  most  needs  to  nourish  love  is  the  single 
woman  who   is   so  deadened   by   her  daily  struggle   for 


114  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

existence  that  she  thinks  she  has  no  love  to  give,  and 
who,  rather  than  make  the  distinct  effort  necessary  to 
go  outside  of  herself,  lets  herself  drop  out  of  the  sight 
and  remembrance  of  everybody,  and  so  misses  the  love 
she  might  otherwise  receive. 

Another  essential  virtue  is  industry,  —  by  which  I 
mean  something  more  than  unceasing  occupation. 
There  must  be  perfect  willingness  to  work,  and  this 
from  the  very  outset.  There  are  many  of  us  who  do 
work  unremittingly  from  a  sense  of  duty  who  yet  have 
not  the  spirit  of  work.  The  proportion  of  such  "un- 
gracious workers,  though  it  seems  now  greatly  decreas- 
ing, is,  I  think,  larger  among  unmarried  women  than 
in  any  other  class  of  human  beings.  This  is  for  two 
reasons.  One  is,  that  the  uncertainty  in  regard  to  mar- 
riage leads  a  great  many  young  women  to  catch  up  any 
kind  of  work,  believing  it  will  not  last  many  years,  and 
to  stumble  along  with  a  task  for  which  they  are  unfitted, 
either  by  nature  or  education,  blundering  at  the  begin- 
ning, and  never  feeling  it  to  be  worth  while  to  correct 
their  blunders,  until  all  is  in  hopeless  confusion.  An- 
other is,  that  until  lately  all  women  have  been  ham- 
pered by  prejudice,  and  being  confined  to  a  few  occu- 
pations, most  of  them  have  been  compelled  to  do  work 
for  which  they  had  no  aptitude. 

Single  women  are  not  indolent  as  a  class,  and  yet 
they  are  often  very  impatient  to  get  through  with  their 


SUCCESS.  U5 

work.  "  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  sighed  a  young  lady  of  twenty- 
two,  "  I  am  tired  of  supporting  myself  already.  Yet 
I  have  only  been  at  work  two  years,  and  I  have  a  whole 
lifetime  before  me."  She  said  this  several  years  ago. 
But  she  soon  had  an  opportunity  to  change  her  occu- 
pation, and  now,  at  twenty-six,  she  is  one  of  the  hap- 
piest, as  well  as  one  of  the  busiest  and  most  useful 
women  I  know. 

The  fact  is,  work  ought  not  to  be  simply  work,  al- 
though this  sometimes  seems  inevitable.  Work,  to  be 
fruitful,  must  be  that  expression  of  our  best  selves  which 
we  owe  to  the  world  in  exchange  for  what  it  gives  us. 
Since  we  receive  so  many  material  things  whose  pro- 
duction involves  drudgery,  we  must  be  willing  to  con- 
tribute our  quota  of  drudgery  in  return ;  and  there  is 
drudgery  even  in  writing  a  symphony.  But  it  would  be 
sad  if  a  Beethoven  should  spend  his  life  in  teaching 
arithmetic,  or  if  a  boy  who  loved  to  follow  the  plough 
should  become  a  clerk  in  the  city. 

Most  of  us  are  forced  to  work  for  our  living.  We 
ought  to  be  willing  to  do  our  share,  and  we  ought  to 
make  a  great  effort  to  do  the  kind  of  work  which  we 
feel  might  be  a  pleasure  as  well  as  a  duty.  This  will 
not  always  be  possible.  All  who  have  artistic  tastes 
cannot  earn  their  living  as  artists.  There  will  always  be 
the  discipline  of  discouragement  and  disappointment  in 
every  lot.     But  if  we  choose  some  work  which  we  thor- 


Il6  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

oughly  believe  in,  and  which  we  are  capable  of  doing, 
there  will  be  daily  compensation  in  it.  Perhaps  the 
young  cannot  understand  this ;  but  unless  the  day 
means  something  to  us,  the  life  will  be  barren.  Of 
course,  great  changes  come  to  some  of  us,  and  a  life 
that  begins  drearily  ends  merrily ;  but  usually  the  dull 
days  lengthen  into  dull  years.  We  must  at  the  outset 
determine  that  each  day  shall  be  able  to  stand  by  itself, 
as  distinctly  good  and  worthy ;  and  to  this  end  we  must 
choose  our  work.  How  easy  it  is  to  say  this,  and  how 
hard  it  is  to  do  it !  How  necessary  it  is  to  make  the 
choice  in  youth,  and  how  often  we  grow  old  before  we 
even  suspect  we  have  the  choice  to  make  ! 

At  all  events,  any  attempt  to  shirk  work  reacts  disas- 
trously upon  ourselves.  It  is  said  there  is  much  less 
fatigue  in  a  ten-mile  walk  if  the  pedestrian  starts  with 
the  intention  of  walking  ten  miles,  than  if,  expecting  to 
find  a  resting-place  at  the  end  of  a  mile,  he  is  forced 
to  go  on  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey  in  uncer- 
tainty. The  woman  who  decides  at  twenty  to  work 
faithfully  as  long  as  her  powers  last  will  be  less  over- 
worked in  the  end  than  the  one  who  keeps  hoping  every 
year  that  something  may  "  turn  up "  to  deliver  her 
from  her  task.  The  saving  in  the  nervous  strain  is  im- 
mense ;  and  beyond  that,  the  intention  of  working  all 
our  lifetime  makes  us  willing  to  give  ourselves  the 
necessary   preparation    for  our  work  which   in  the  end 


SUCCESS.  117 

simplifies  and  improves  it.  Especially  if  we  see  clearly 
that  we  ought  to  work  all  our  lives  at  an  occupation  we 
should  not  choose,  we  shall  be  more  ready  to  consider 
what  are  our  own  faults  which  make  our  task  so  un- 
pleasant, and  perhaps  we  shall  then  be  able  to  correct 
them  so  early  in  life  that  we  shall  at  last  really  enjoy 
what  was  once  distasteful. 

Here  is  a  suggestive  passage  on  this  subject  from  one 
of  Charlotte  Bronte's  lately  published  letters  :  — 

"  I  have  always  been  accustomed  to  think  that  the  neces- 
sity of  earning  one's  living  is  not,  in  itself,  an  evil,  though 
I  feel  it  may  become  a  heavy  evil  if  health  fails,  if  em- 
ployment lacks,  if  the  demand  upon  our  efforts  made  by 
the  weakness  of  others  dependent  upon  us  becomes  greater 
than  our  strength.  Both  sons  and  daughters  should  early 
be  inured  to  habits  of  independence  and  industry.  A 
governess's  lot  is  frequently,  indeed,  bitter,  but  its  results 
are  precious.  The  mind,  feelings,  and  temper  are  subjected 
to  discipline  equally  painful  and  priceless.  I  have  known 
many  who  were  unhappy  as  governesses,  but  scarcely  one 
who,  having  undergone  the  ordeal,  w7as  not  ultimately 
strengthened  and  improved,  —  made  more  enduring  for  her 
own  afflictions,  more  considerate  for  the  afflictions  of 
others.  .  .  .  The  girl  who  stays  at  home  doing  nothing  is 
worse  off  than  the  worst  paid  drudge  of  a  school.  The  list- 
lessness  of  idleness  will  infallibly  degrade  her  nature. 
Lonely  as  I  am,  how  should  I  be  if  Providence  had  not 
given  me  courage  to  adopt  a  career?  ...  As  it  is,  some- 
thing like  a  hope  and  a  motive  sustain  me  still.  I  wish 
every  woman  in  England  had  also  a  hope  and  a  motive. 
Alas !  I  fear  there  are  many  old  maids  who  have  neither." 


I  1 8  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

No  one  was  ever  better  qualified  to  speak  of  "the 
painful  but  priceless  "  experience  of  a  governess  than 
Charlotte  Bronte.  If  she  said  it  was  worth  the  cost, 
we  may  be  sure  it  was.  But  in  America,  in  this  last 
decade  of  the  century,  matters  stand  a  little  differently. 
A  great  many  kinds  of  special  work  are  to  be  done 
which  do  not  bring  money,  so  that  the  well-to-do  need 
never  be  without  an  object  in  life.  This  every  single 
woman  especially  requires,  whether  she  is  rich  or  poor ; 
and  if  rich,  she  is  really  culpable  if  she  undertakes  any 
work  without  due  care  and  training. 

To  take  these  views  of  work  demands  courage,  and 
courage  is  another  virtue  which  a  woman  who  is  to  lead 
a  single  life  needs  especially  to  cultivate.  The  faint 
heart  seldom  wins  anything  worth  winning. 

A  timid  woman  often  seems  to  lack  "  charm  "  —  that 
quality  which  Mr.  Warner  says  is  always  wanting  in  a 
woman  who  does  not  know  how  to  place  the  lights  in  a 
room  —  simply  through  her  self-conciousness  and  self- 
distrust,  though  she  may  have  the  loving  wish  to  make 
others  comfortable,  the  perception  of  beauty  in  arrange- 
ment, and  the  intelligence  necessary  to  carry  out  her 
ideas.  She  will  not  combine  the  efficiency  and  sweetness 
required  to  make  her  practically  helpful,  unless  courage 
too  is  part  of  her  equipment.  Yet  how  glad  we  should 
all  be   to   deserve   the  praise   given    to   a   famous  New 


SUCCESS. 


119 


England  woman  :  "  Every  motion  she  made  gave  com- 
fort to  some  one."  This  quality  of  character  is  a  gift, 
and  those  who  have  it  are  sought  after,  and  therefore 
usually  married.  But  what  an  advantage  it  would  be 
to  a  single  woman  !  Perhaps  it  cannot  be  cultivated ; 
still,  there  is  always  some  hope  of  becoming  what  we 
consciously  wish  to  be. 

A  single  woman  must  face  loneliness,  neglect,  and 
often  harshness  and  ridicule.  If  she  is  sensitive,  she 
often  feels  herself  to  be  such  a  target  for  the  slings  and 
arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  that  her  only  safety  seems 
to  be  in  hiding  herself  from  the  world  altogether.  Who 
can  blame  her?  Yet  the  women  who  have  the  courage 
to  ignore  circumstances  and  to  go  on  modestly  and 
bravely  as  if  all  were  well  instead  of  ill,  are  the  happy 
women,  and  it  may  be  the  most  useful,  though  I  am 
not  sure  of  this  latter  statement,  because  so  many  women 
who  are  outwardly  crushed  are  of  such  untold  value  to 
others,  after  all. 

Courage  to  do  her  work,  however  distasteful,  courage 
to  choose  the  right  work,  courage  to  resist  the  encroach- 
ments of  others,  —  all  these  forms  of  courage  are  essen- 
tial if  a  single  woman  wishes  to  lead  a  satisfactory 
life. 

Health  is  a  requisite  to  the  success  of  every  man  or 
woman ;  but  no  invalid  is  so  unfortunate  as  one  who  is 
unmarried,  for  whom  no  one  is  really  bound  to  care. 


120  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

It  would  be  well  for  any  young  woman  who  is  reckless 
about  her  health  to  take  this  fact  into  consideration,  and 
fancy  for  a  moment  now  and  then  what  her  condition 
will  be  after  she  loses  her  father  and  mother,  if  she 
should  be  weak  and  feeble. 

But  such  a  dead-and-alive  motive  to  cherish  health  as 
that  is  almost  worse  than  no  motive  at  all.  The  real 
truth  is  that  we  must  live.  Springing,  abounding  life  is 
for  most  of  us  a  right,  and  something  better  than  a  duty. 
Positive  happiness  and  full  powers  for  use  belong  to 
those  who  have  so  reverenced  the  body  that  it  has  be- 
come a  perfect  instrument  to  do  the  will  of  the  mind 
and  heart. 

The  young  girl  has  temptations  to  all  kinds  of  frivoli- 
ties which  will  weaken  the  physical  fibre  ;  but  the  dangers 
of  the  older,  thoughtful  woman  are  two,  —  overwork  and 
worry.  It  is  not  easy  to  "  consider  the  lilies,"  yet  when 
we  lift  our  tired  eyes  sometimes  from  our  work  and  see 
the  white  coolness  of  the  blossoms,  we  become  aware 
that  the  best  of  life  is  given  to  us  without  our  painful 
labour,  and  that  the  best  work  is  never  done  till  we  are 
free  from  nervous  hurry.  And  then  we  see  a  dim  prom- 
ise of  deliverance  from  anxiety.  In  drinking  the  re- 
freshing draught  of  the  present  we  are  strengthened  for 
the  hardest  future,  which,  however,  cannot  possibly  be 
as  hard  as  it  would  have  been  without  this  refreshment. 

We  are  so  afraid  of  suffering  that  we  are  willing  to  let 


SUCCESS.  12  1 

ourselves  deaden  to  it.  Those  who  meet  the  "  knife- 
edge  "  firmly  must,  it  is  true,  bear  the  deep  wound;  but 
in  the  living,  vigorous  body,  it  heals,  while  in  the  feeble 
body  it  festers.  Single  women  as  a  class,  I  fear,  are 
too  prone  to  the  morbid,  sensitive  shrinking  of  which 
the  final  result  is  a  dull,  colourless,  negative  life. 

A  sense  of  humour  and  a  disposition  to  make  light  of 
annoyances  sweetens  any  life,  but  especially  one  where 
the  playful  element  is  not  supplied  by  children.  The 
faculty  of  transmuting  any  little  slight  into  a  joke  is 
especially  to  be  commended. 

And  then,  though  a  single  woman  must  make  the 
most  of  the  ties  of  family  and  friends,  she  can  seldom 
escape  many  solitary  hours  ;  and  she  must  have  resources 
within  herself.  Even  if  she  does  not  excel  in  music 
or  painting,  the  pursuit  of  these  arts  adds  to  her  life. 
Hearing  music  and  seeing  pictures  enlarge  and  illumi- 
nate the  horizon.  Beauty  is  necessary  to  life,  to  happi- 
ness, —  almost  to  faith.  But  the  simplest  and  cheapest 
pleasures  are  the  best  of  all.  The  beauty  of  the  world 
around  us,  whether  blossoming  with  flowers  or  shining 
with  snow,  is  free  to  all  of  us.  Let  me  suggest  to  all 
lonely  women  the  delight  and  vigour  of  an  out-door  life. 
All  men  and  women  stand  in  need  of  out- door  beauty ; 
but  certainly  single  women,  whose  home  influences  are 
sometimes    so  narrowing,   have  a  peculiar   need   of  it. 


122  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

I  often  feel  like  applying  to  them  the  words  of  Belarius, 
in  "  Cymbeline,"  — 

"  A  goodly  day  not  to  keep  house,  with  such 
Whose  roof  's  as  low  as  oars." 

And  further,  there  is  the  comfort  of  books,  for  all 
who  have  learned  to  use  them.  It  is  trite  to  say  that 
books  are  our  silent,  uplifting,  never-failing  friends ;  but 
how  blessedly  true  !  If  a  lonely  woman  will  learn  to 
use  them,  half  the  battle  of  life  will  be  won. 


INTELLECTUAL    WOMEN.  123 


VIII. 

INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN. 

THOUGH  women  are  far  freer  to  choose  a  single 
life  now  than  ever  before,  it  is  still  difficult  to 
make  it  perfectly  satisfactory ;  because  a  chief  source 
of  happiness  to  a  woman  who  has  not  the  ordinary 
occupations  of  her  sex  will  always  be  to  do  the  work 
she  is  best  suited  to  do,  and  to  do  it  well,  —  while 
independence  at  least,  and  often  wealth,  are  also  the 
rewards  of  the  right  work  rightly  done.  And  this  de- 
mands the  most  complete  special  training,  such  as  is 
not  yet  within  easy  reach  of  most  women. 

The  obstacles  in  the  way  of  fitting  a  woman  thor- 
oughly for  independence  have  been  illustrated  lately  in 
the  case  of  a  young  girl  who  wished  to  go  to  college. 
She  and  her  twin-brother,  who  were  orphans,  having 
been  brought  up  by  an  aunt  in  straitened  circumstances, 
the  only  way  to  a  college  education  open  to  them 
seemed  to  be  by  borrowing  money.  It  was  one  of  the 
few  instances  where  borrowing  seems  both  right  and 
wise.  They  had  inherited  intellect  from  a  long  line  of 
intellectual  ancestors.     The  girl  especially  had  an  extra- 


124  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

ordinary  mind.  She  also  had  a  noble  character,  and 
there  could  be  no  question  that  she  both  could  and 
would  use  her  education  in  the  best  way.  At  eighteen, 
her  power  as  a  writer  was  already  so  developed  as  to 
bring  her  some  money.  With  a  complete  education 
she  was  sure  to  do  work  of  unusual  value,  which  she 
could  hardly  hope  to  do  without  it.  It  would  have 
taken  years  for  her  to  earn  the  money  to  go  to  college  ; 
but  all  her  teachers  were  convinced  that,  armed  with  a 
college  education,  she  would  be  in  a  position  to  pay  all 
she  had  borrowed  in  a  year  or  two,  at  most.  These 
facts  were  so  well  known  to  her  friends  that  she  had  no 
idea  there  would  be  any  difficulty  in  borrowing  the 
small  sum  she  thought  necessary.  Her  brother,  though 
he  was  by  no  means  her  equal  intellectually,  had  not 
the  slightest  trouble  in  getting  all  the  money  he  wanted. 
To  her  surprise  and  chagrin,  however,  nobody  would 
lend  her  anything.  She  applied  to  one  rich  and  gen- 
erous and  cultivated  friend  after  another,  and  they  all 
said  No.  One  or  two  even  took  the  ground  that  a 
college  education  was  a  luxury  as  unsuitable  for  a  girl 
in  her  situation  as  —  let  us  say  diamonds.  Others  said, 
in  effect  at  least,  "You  are  a  charming  girl,  and  will 
soon  be  married.  You  will  have  no  need  of  a  college 
degree.  If  you  are  in  debt,  it  may  delay  your  mar- 
riage." Others  still,  and  these  among  the  most  tried 
and   true   of  her   friends,  said  plainly,  "  We    should  be 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN1. 


I25 


glad  to  help  you  if  you  were  a  boy,  or  even  if  you  were 
a  girl  who  seemed  unlikely  to  marry.  But  you  are  now 
very  attractive ;  we  are  afraid  college  life  will  make 
you  less  so,  and  it  may  be  the  means  of  preventing 
your  marrying  at  all.  We  cannot  have  that  on  our 
conscience." 

These  little  compliments  could  hardly  lull  the  rising 
anger  in  the  young  maiden's  breast.  She  smiled  gently 
at  them.  "Suppose,"  she  said  demurely,  "that  I  should 
make  preparations  to  be  married  by  carefully  cherishing 
my  present  attractive  ignorance  !  And  then,  suppose  I 
should  n't  be  married,  after  all !  " 

In  the  end  she  did  find  help,  though  it  took  her  six 
months  to  do  what  her  brother  had  done  in  a  day. 
Whether  her  advisers  were  right  in  supposing  that  she 
will  be  less  fit  for  marriage  at  the  end  of  her  course  or 
not,  there  is  no  doubt  that  if  she  remains  unmarried 
she  will  be  both  happier  and  more  useful  in  consequence 
of  it. 

The  friends  who  refused  to  help  her  were  not  narrow 
or  thoughtless  men.  They  were  men  of  high  aims  and 
broad  culture ;  and  their  verdict  on  the  vexed  question 
of  a  woman's  attractiveness  cannot  be  disregarded. 
Most  women  whose  opinion  is  worth  considering,  as 
well  as  a  few  thinkers  among  men,  take  the  opposite 
view.  Still,  the  evidence  is  strong  that  men  in  general 
suppose  —  and    ought    they    not    to    know    themselves, 


126  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

at  least?  —  that  they  are  not  attracted  by  a  studious 
woman.  This  conviction  reacts  upon  women ;  and  in 
their  fear  of  what  they  may  lose,  they  let  slip  their 
chances  to  fit  themselves  for  a  broad  independence. 
And  then,  as  our  young  friend  said,  "  What  if  they  are 
not  married,  after  all  !  "  It  is  only  fair  to  say,  at  this 
point,  that  when  a  man  does  demand  intellectual  com- 
panionship in  a  woman,  he  generally  wants  more  than 
most  women  can  give.  This  suggests  the  possibility 
that  it  is  the  hopelessness  of  finding  real  companionship 
which  leads  most  men  not  to  ask  for  any.  Perhaps  the 
higher  education  will  effect  something  here. 

The  question  of  a  woman's  education  will  have  to  be 
finally  decided  on  grounds  of  absolute  right;  and  all 
thought  of  expediency  —  even  that  expediency  which 
involves  a  high  and  helpful  love  —  will  have  to  be  put 
aside.  If  a  woman  is  a  better  woman  because  of  her 
education,  she  must  be  educated,  whether  her  chances 
for  marriage  are  thereby  imperilled  or  not.  If  she  is  a 
better  woman  without  the  education  than  with  it,  then 
she  should  not  have  it,  even  if  her  chances  of  inde- 
pendence and  happiness  in  a  single  life  are  thereby 
destroyed. 

It  is  almost  a  truism  that  intellectual  education  alone 
does  not  improve  either  men  or  women.  As  Emerson 
suggests,  it  is  better  that  a  bad  man  should  have  only 
his   hands  to  help  him  carry  out  his  evil  designs,  than 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  127 

that  he  should  be  furnished  with  modern  machinery. 
It  has  been  said  of  Napoleon  that  he  was  not  a  worse 
man  than  many  others,  but  that  his  powerful  intellect 
multiplied  the  ill  his  low  motives  wrought. 

Looking  at  it  in  this  light,  education  ought  to  make 
both  men  and  women  better.  If  it  does  not,  it  is 
because  the  moral  development  is  sacrificed  to  the 
intellectual.  Perhaps  this  is  not  often  the  case ;  the 
head  and  heart  usually  develop  together.  But  there  is 
a  danger  in  an  intellectual  life  which,  though  it  does  not 
really  affect  women  more  than  men,  seems  to  do  so  on 
the  surface.  I  mean  that  an  intellectual  life  is  some- 
times allowed  to  become  all-absorbing,  and  make  us 
indifferent  to  the  claims  of  others,  —  especially  to  the 
petty  claims  which  are  so  exhausting  and  annoying. 
Now,  men  have  shirked  these  small  claims  for  many  cen- 
turies, on  the  plea  that  they  could  not  meet  them  with- 
out neglecting  more  important  duties ;  and  their  plea 
must  be  allowed  in  part,  because  the  difference  in  the 
physical  powers  of  men  and  women  does  make  a  nat- 
ural division  of  duties,  by  which  the  smaller  ones  must 
usually  fall  to  women,  however  little  we  may  like  to  own 
it.  The  distinction  is  not  so  broad  as  it  is  supposed  to 
be,  however.  It  is  really  as  wrong  for  an  absent- 
minded  German  professor  to  forget  to  order  the  family 
dinner  when  he  passes  the  market,  as  it  would  be  for 
his  wife   to   forget  to  see  that  it  was   cooked  properly. 


128  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

Yet  if  both  Professor  and  Professorin  had  forgotten  their 
duties  because  they  were  absorbed  in  studying  Sanskrit, 
how  differently  their  failures  would  be  regarded  !  Every- 
body would  speak  of  the  Professor's  lapse  with  an  indul- 
gent smile  ;  but  his  wife  would  be  accounted  unwomanly. 
She  would  be  unwomanly,  and  it  is  quite  true  he  would 
not  be  unmanly ;  but  this  is  simply  because  men  so  long 
ago  shifted  their  small  responsibilities  to  the  shoulders 
of  women  that  the  word  manly  does  not  mean  all  it 
ought  to  mean.  Just  in  the  same  way  a  woman  would 
not  be  called  unwomanly  who  fainted  at  the  sight  of  a 
mouse,  because  womanly  does  not  mean  all  it  ought. 
The  woman  who  fainted  would  be  silly,  and  the  man 
who  forgot  his  errand  would  be  so  thoughtless  as  to  be 
unkind. 

Now,  absorption  in  study  is  in  itself  as  wrong  for  a 
man  as  for  a  woman ;  and  yet  it  shows  a  more  callous 
nature  in  a  woman  than  in  a  man,  for  this  reason :  in 
the  process  of  evolution,  certain  qualities  which  go  to 
make  up  a  fine  character  have  gradually  been  gained 
by  women,  and  certain  other  qualities  by  men.  Most 
women  at  the  present  day  who  have  a  high  moral  sense 
are  ready  to  interrupt  their  favourite  pursuits  at  any 
moment  when  others  have  a  real  need  of  their  help, 
while  most  men  still  feel  that  their  own  pursuits  are 
of  paramount  importance.  Therefore,  when  a  woman 
allows  herself  the  latitude  of  a  man  in  this  respect,  she 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  129 

gives  up  the  ground  which  women  have  already  gained 
by  years  of  painful  struggle  with  their  own  selfishness. 
Even  if  at  the  outset  they  were  forced  into  unselfishness 
by  the  physical  superiority  of  men,  yet  the  fact  remains 
that  one  form  of  unselfishness  is  more  common  among 
women  than  among  men.  No  intellectual  progress 
could  compensate  for  a  backward  step  here.  More- 
over, the  beautiful  quality  of  thoughtfulness  which  leads 
a  woman  to  be  constantly  devising  surprises  of  help  and 
pleasure  for  others  may  possibly  owe  much  of  its  devel- 
opment to  the  habit  of  living  from  moment  to  moment, 
without  any  definite  plan  of  life.  Yet  any  high  degree 
of  intellectual  excellence  demands  continued  study. 
Nobody  can  do  great  intellectual  work  in  bits,  simply 
by  faithfully  using  the  odd  minutes.  I  suppose  that  this 
is  why  men  vaguely  fear  that  when  a  woman  begins  to 
study  she  may  lose  those  fine  qualities  which  she  has 
won  by  generations  of  discipline.  A  woman  ought  to 
fear  this  for  herself.  She  must  be  on  her  guard  against 
a  foe  whose  form  is  that  of  an  angel  of  light.  Her 
dilemma  is  often  a  serious  one.  Shall  she  give  up 
something  grand  and  beautiful  in  itself,  something 
which  would  make  her  whole  life  delightful  and  useful, 
for  the  sake  of  satisfying  the  thousand  little  claims  on 
her  arising  every  day?  She  certainly  must,  if  the  claims 
are  real ;  she  certainly  must  not,  if  they  are  unjust  claims. 
Here  is  the  crucial  point.     How  can  she  decide,  when 

9 


130  T11E    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

all  her  inclinations  so  heavily  weight  one  of  the  scale- 
pans  of  the  balance?  Good  women,  in  whom,  however, 
the  intellect  predominates  over  the  moral  nature,  will 
not  give  up  enough.  Women  equally  intellectual,  in 
whom  the  moral  nature  —  or  perhaps  we  should  say 
the  emotional  nature  —  predominates,  usually  make  the 
mistake  of  giving  up  too  much.  Men  have  learned  to 
rely  so  much  on  the  certainty  that  good  women  will  give 
up  their  individuality,  that  very  few  even  of  the  best 
men  are  quite  conscious  when  they  make  unjust  de- 
mands on  women.  Their  dread  of  the  effect  of  the  in- 
tellectual development  of  women  is  partly  well-founded; 
for  there  is  a  real  danger,  as  I  have  shown.  But  with- 
out knowing  it,  I  think  men  are  also  unwilling  to  face 
the  probability  that  a  woman  who  is  interested  in  a 
noble  intellectual  pursuit  will  not  think  it  her  duty,  far 
less  a  sentimental  privilege,  to  forsake  it  in  order  to 
satisfy  unjust  claims.  I  have  had  the  happiness  of 
knowing  a  few  thoroughly  unselfish  men,  and  the  mis- 
fortune of  knowing  some  selfish  women,  —  indeed,  the 
virtue  of  unselfishness  is  not  so  unevenly  divided  be- 
tween the  sexes  as  we  sometimes  fancy  ;  but  the  kind 
of  unselfishness  which  leads  to  the  constant  sacrifice  of 
our  aims  and  occupations  for  the  sake  of  others  is,  I 
think,  far  more  distinctive  of  women  than  of  men. 
Now,  the  more  ready  women  are  to  make  unjust  sacri- 
fices, the  greater  will  always  be  the  demand  upon  them, 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  131 

—  even,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  from  men  otherwise  high- 
minded.  But  when  the  moral  and  the  intellectual  de- 
velopment of  women  keep  pace  perfectly,  the  result  of 
education  will  be  this,  —  women  will  joyfully  give  up 
many  things  they  now  give  up  grudgingly,  because  they 
will  feel  that  fame  or  fortune  or  even  mental  exhilara- 
tion cannot  be  weighed  in  the  balances  a  moment 
against  the  delight  of  doing  a  genuine  duty,  especially 
in  the  service  of  one  they  love ;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
they  will  courteously  and  firmly  refuse  to  yield  an  inch 
of  ground  unjustly  demanded  of  them.  As  moral  in- 
struction is  less  systematically  provided  for  us  than  intel- 
lectual, all  girls  who  are  striving  for  a  higher  education 
must  themselves  be  vigilant  lest  the  tree  of  knowledge 
overshadow  and  stunt  the  growth  of  the  tree  of  love. 

I  rejoice  to  say  that  the  college-bred  women  of  the  time 
do  already  show  us  something  of  the  embodiment  of  the 
ideal.  It  is  possible,  though  apparently  not  true,  that 
they  do  not  marry  as  frequently  as  others.  But  if  true 
now,  there  is  no  real  reason  why  it  should  continue  to 
be  so ;  and  as  a  preparation  for  a  single  life,  a  college 
course  is  of  untold  value,  —  for  whatever  a  woman's 
occupation,  it  will  add  meaning  to  every  hour  of  leisure, 
while  it  is  of  the  greatest  help  in  her  choice  of  an 
occupation. 

The  late  John  B.  Gough  used  to  tell  an  anecdote 
of  an   orator   who,  wildly  gesticulating,   delivered   the 


132  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

following  opinion :  "  In  the  city  and  in  the  country, 
in  the  street  and  by  the  way,  in  the  valley  and  on 
the  mountain,  in  the  garden  and  in  the  desert,  on  the 
farm  and  in  the  factory,  among  the  rich  and  among 
the  poor,  there  is  a  great  difference  in  people."  This 
seemed  a  very  commonplace  mouse  to  be  brought  forth 
by  such  a  mountain  of  oratory ;  but,  after  all,  can  we 
put  too  great  emphasis  on  the  differences  of  people? 
Half  the  usefulness  and  enjoyment  of  life,  not  directly 
connected  with  character,  comes  from  the  opportunity 
to  do  the  kind  of  work  for  which  Nature  has  fitted  us. 
Now,  married  women  in  general  are  called  upon  to 
do  two  or  three  kinds  of  work  to  the  exclusion  of  almost 
everything  else,  although  this  century  has  brought  an 
enlarged  life  even  to  the  married,  and  the  next  century 
will  probably  provide  a  greater  choice  of  occupations 
for  them.  But  single  women,  if  not  too  closely  pressed 
by  poverty,  can  consult  their  own  powers,  and  follow 
congenial  lines  of  work.  Moreover,  they  can  perse- 
vere in  one  direction  till  they  reach  a  definite  end,  — 
for,  while  married  women  as  a  rule  may  be  said  to  work 
"by  the  day,"  single  women  can  carry  one  kind  of 
work  over  from  one  day  to  another,  till  they  achieve  a 
solid  result. 

It  has  not  always  been  so.  In  the  past,  when  all 
women  were  restricted  in  their  choice  of  work,  the 
larger   opportunities   were    found   among   the  married. 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  133 

Lucy  Smith  says,  suggestively,  in  speaking  of  marriage  : 
"For  one  case  of  real  sympathy  of  heart  and  soul, 
there  are  at  least  five,  I  should  say,  where  the  fuller 
life  is  the  real  attraction.  There  is  a  better  time  com- 
ing. I  shall  not  see  it,  but  I  am  glad  to  have  seen 
its  dawn."     This  was  said  in  1869. 

The  inspiring  sense  of  having  some  special  gift  which 
lays  upon  us  the  duty  of  performing  some  special  ser- 
vice, and  the  consciousness  that  our  greatest  happiness 
depends  on  our  rendering  that  service,  are  now  almost 
universal  among  women  who  do  not  have  to  work 
simply  for  dear  life.  The  educating  influence  of  mar- 
riage is  so  great  that  the  married  women  accomplish 
more  in  some  directions  —  notably,  I  think,  in  litera- 
ture—  than  single  women  can;  but  single  women  in 
this  decade  have  more  freedom,  and  therefore,  if  they 
choose,  more  time,  to  give  to  any  work  they  have  un- 
dertaken; and  they  are  beginning  to  feel  the  glow 
of  satisfaction  which  always  comes  when  we  have  done 
anything  thoroughly.  Sometimes  the  responsibility  of 
using  time  and  freedom  aright  is  too  deeply  felt.  A 
woman  with  the  artist's  eye  or  the  musician's  touch 
will  spend  all  her  inheritance  and  all  her  strength  in 
learning  the  technique  of  her  craft ;  and  just  at  the 
moment  she  sees  the  dawn  of  success,  she  falls  a  victim 
to  nervous  prostration.  Henceforth,  since  life  cannot 
be  put  to  the  intended  uses,  she  thinks  it  has  no  uses 


134  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

at  all.  One  of  the  last  strongholds  of  selfishness  is  the 
idea  that  it  is  praiseworthy  to  overwork  in  any  self- 
chosen  task.  It  does  often  seem  as  if  God  himself 
had  set  the  task  which  demands  overwork.  If  that  is 
really  true,  the  spirit  will  be  able  to  endure  with  forti- 
tude when  the  body  at  last  gives  way;  but  if  there 
has  been  the  taint  of  ambition  in  our  unremitting 
efforts  to  accomplish  anything,  however  good  the  object 
may  be  in  itself,  that  same  taint  makes  our  failure  un- 
bearable. It  is  not  pleasant  to  hear  any  woman  say 
that  because  she  cannot  be  an  artist  or  a  musician  or 
an  author  or  an  inventor,  therefore  life  is  not  worth 
living. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  an  artist,  I  hear,"  said  a  lady 
to  a  fine  young  art-student.  "  I  don't  know  about 
that,"  replied  the  girl,  frankly.  "  I  am  going  to  do 
my  best.  If  my  pictures  prove  me  an  artist,  I  shall 
be  glad."     It  seems  to  me  this  is  the  true  attitude. 

I  know  a  woman  of  great  and  varied  powers.  In 
science,  in  literature,  in  art,  and  in  political  economy 
she  has  shown  such  capacity  that  her  friends  feel  that 
she  might  have  been  distinguished  in  any  of  these 
directions  had  she  possessed  good  health.  Delicate  as 
she  is,  she  has  done  more  intellectual  work  than  most 
strong  women  do.  In  her  girlhood  she  accomplished 
so  much  in  cryptogamic  botany  that  an  old  professor  of 
that    science  left   her    at  his  death    all   his   books    and 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  135 

specimens,  feeling  that  he  knew  no  one  else  so  likely 
to  use  them  to  great  ends,  since  she  had  both  capacity 
and  will.  When  the  break  in  her  constitution  came, 
she  felt  almost  as  if  it  were  wrong  for  her  to  have  these 
priceless  treasures  which  she  could  not  fully  use,  and  so 
she  was  eager  to  share  them  with  all  who  could  appre- 
ciate their  value.  She  did  not  spoil  them  by  dividing 
them,  knowing  that  they  ought  to  be  kept  together  till 
she  could  find  some  one  able  to  use  them  as  she  would 
have  done ;  but  she  showed  them  freely  to  amateurs  as 
well  as  to  scientists,  and  she  taught  every  one,  who  was 
willing  to  learn,  how  to  take  the  first  difficult  steps  in 
the  way  which  would  lead  to  their  comprehension. 
There  were  not  half-a-dozen  people  in  the  State  who 
were  competent  to  use  the  specimens,  but  she  felt  such 
a  responsibility  for  the  gift  that  the  circle  of  those  who 
could  make  a  partial  use  of  them  was  greatly  enlarged. 
She,  too,  I  think,  looked  truthfully  and  nobly  at  her 
opportunities. 

One  of  the  great  problems  of  the  age  is  how  to  do 
the  work  of  the  specialist  without  sacrificing  something 
more  vital ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  single  women  have 
unusual  opportunities  to  help  in  its  solution,  since  so 
many  of  them  are  free  from  the  personal  ties  involving 
duties  which  must  always  take  precedence  of  intellectual 
work.  The  fundamental  principle  which  helps  us  to 
discriminate   between   conflicting    duties   of  this  nature 


136  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

is  that  we  do  our  special  work  not  for  ourselves  alone, 
but  as  our  share  in  blessing  the  world.  Bearing  this  in 
mind,  how  can  we  fail  to  give  the  "  cup  of  cold  water  " 
when  it  is  needed,  even  if  we  have  to  interrupt  our 
examination  of  the  hydrospires  of  the  Blastoids  to  do 
it?  And  on  the  other  hand,  how  can  we  fail  to  pursue 
our  investigations  of  the  hydrospires  serenely  when  some 
selfish  and  indolent  person  (who  is,  in  fact,  usually  one's 
self)  demands  some  preposterous  service  of  us  which 
might  better  be  left  undone? 

The  special  work  blesses  a  thousand  strangers.  Think 
of  the  help  and  courage  and  inspiration  the  Boston 
Symphony  Orchestra  give  by  their  perfect  playing ! 
The  listeners  do  not  perhaps  know  the  names  of  a 
dozen  of  the  musicians,  and  yet  each  firm  hand  and 
delicate  ear  adds  to  the  overwhelming  effect.  Not  a 
second  violin,  nor  a  trombone,  nor  an  oboe  can  be 
spared  from  that  marvellous  web  of  sound.  Every  one 
of  those  men  must  be  a  master,  but  his  part  must  be 
subordinate  to  the  whole,  or  the  rich  harmony  is  lost. 
They  say  that  every  violin  in  the  orchestra  might  be 
a  soloist ;  but  if  every  one  insisted  on  playing  only  solos, 
where  would  be  the  accompaniment  without  which  the 
concerto  would  have  no  depth  nor  meaning?  I  remem- 
ber once  sitting  where  I  could  watch  the  back  of  the 
stage,  and  that  my  interest  was  roused  by  a  musician 
who  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do.     He  sat  quietly  and 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  137 

easily  attentive  to  every  note  through  almost  three 
movements  of  the  symphony.  Then,  as  quietly  and 
easily,  he  took  up  the  cymbals,  and,  at  the  moment 
of  climax,  he  struck  them  just  once  with  that  firm 
vibration  which  showed  that  he,  too,  was  a  master. 
After  that,  he  went  away.  Perhaps  no  one  else  in 
the  audience  noticed  him,  and  perhaps  sometimes  he 
may  have  wished  that  he  had  a  more  conspicuous  part 
in  the  symphony.  Nevertheless,  the  climax  could  not 
have  been  reached  without  him. 

The  perfect  fruit  of  specialization  in  music  or  art 
or  literature  gives  such  high  pleasure,  its  beauty  gives 
such  happiness,  that  we  must  believe  it  is  worth  more 
than  the  every-day  blundering  good-natured  work  which 
is,  after  all,  the  best  that  most  of  us,  with  our  hap-hazard 
training,  can  accomplish,  although  we  must  cling  to  the 
belief  that  motive  is  more  than  achievement.  The 
giving  of  the  cup  of  cold  water  moment  by  moment 
is  not  enough,  though  most  of  us  fail  to  do  even  that. 
The  moments  must  be  linked  together.  It  is  not  enough 
to  walk,  we  must  climb.  The  great  work  must  be  done, 
but  oh,  how  ?  Not  by  forgetting  the  cup  of  cold  water. 
The  younger  single  women  in  this  half-century  are  set 
apart  almost  as  priestesses  of  old  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion. The  older  generation  of  women  were  too  nervous 
about  what  they  called  their  "work."  They  did  it,  not 
perhaps  quite  for  their   own  sake,  but  with  too   much 


138  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

thought  of  themselves  and  the  impression  they  made. 
They  did  not  stand  firmly  enough  on  their  feet,  and 
they  were  not  strong  enough  to  fly. 

The  ancient  Greeks,  not  being  yet  awake  to  the 
meaning  of  love,  produced  perfect  beauty,  because  of 
their  unwavering  aim.  So  with  many  great  artists. 
They  can  watch  a  death-struggle  for  art's  sake,  and  are 
not  unnerved  by  sympathy  with  the  sufferer.  Then 
when  men  of  the  Puritan  type  discover  that  there  is 
something  better  than  art,  even  beauty  itself  is  counted 
worthless.  Just  now  the  world,  with  all  its  hideous 
jangling,  seems  to  be  learning  the  lesson  of  love  as 
never  before ;  and  with  love  will  come  a  return  of 
beauty. 

The  tense  nerves  of  the  women  of  the  middle  of  this 
century,  strained  to  the  point  of  breaking  in  the  deter- 
mination to  do  great  things,  made  any  beautiful  work 
impossible.  The  lazy,  artistic  —  I  am  afraid  we  must 
add,  selfish  —  temperament  conquered  in  every  contest 
for  beauty ;  the  light  touch,  the  flexible  voice,  the 
charming  witticism,  the  graceful  motion  all  belonged 
to  those  whose  nerves  were  unstrained,  and  whose 
actions  were  easy  and  natural.  How  unjust  this  seemed 
to  the  workers  with  a  high  purpose  !  But  if  the  time 
ever  comes  when  love  is  so  abounding  as  to  swallow  up 
the  high  sense  of  duty  which  is  the  next  best  thing 
to    love,   then    the    nerves   will    be  firm   without    being 


INTELLECTUAL   WOMEN.  139 

strained,  industry  will  be  something  very  different  from 
overwork,  there  will  be  ease  and  unconsciousness  which 
is  necessary  to  all  beauty ;  but  with  it  such  earnestness 
and  depth  that  the  work  done  will  be  far  above  the 
level  of  that  accomplished  by  mere  artistic  laziness,  and, 
to  adapt  the  words  of  a  friend,  when  our  lives  cease 
to  be  tense,  they  may  be  worthily  intense.  I  say  all  this 
will  be  so ;  but  it  is  yet  to  be  proved  experimentally. 
Most  of  us  have  been  sometimes  paralyzed  by  discover- 
ing that  a  moral  purpose  was  so  at  war  with  an  artistic 
aim  that  we  have  been  ready  to  predict  failure  for 
every  friend  aspiring  to  an  artistic  career  who  did  not 
thoroughly  believe  in  art  for  art's  sake  with  utter  in- 
difference to  any  moral  results.  Yet  how  can  we  help 
cherishing  the  feeling  that  what  we  see  ought  to  be  true 
really  is  true  ?  At  all  events,  here  is  a  problem  set  for 
the  free  women  of  our  time  to  help  in  solving,  and  here 
probably  is  a  great  opportunity  to  do  a  new  and  lovely 
work ;  that  is,  planting  the  germ  of  love  in  the  soil  of 
the  intellect,  to  bring  forth  fruits  worthy  of  the  union. 


140  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

IX. 

BUSINESS   WOMEN. 

V  T  THAT  is  the  effect  of  a  business  life  on  a  woman's 
»  »        character? 

It  is  excellent,  Sorosis  says,  for  the  woman  who  finally 
marries.  Sorosis  evidently  thinks  that  a  woman  cannot 
be  spoiled,  or  that  if  she  can  be,  she  will  not  be  married 
at  all.  No  doubt  Sorosis  is  right.  A  married  woman 
has  such  scope  for  the  play  of  virtues  which  get  little 
exercise  among  single  women  that  a  business  training 
simply  proves  the  necessary  balance-wheel.  But  how  is 
it  when  a  woman  gives  her  life  to  business  ? 

The  business  women  I  know  are  a  fine  set.  There  is 
one  charming  little  lady  who  presides  over  a  variety 
store  in  a  village.  She  is  neat  and  trim  and  cheerful, 
she  has  a  pleasant  word  for  every  one,  she  takes  a  sin- 
cere interest  in  supplying  the  needs  of  every  customer, 
and  I  suppose  she  is  building  up  an  agreeable  little 
fortune.  She  must  be  worn  out  when  she  locks  her 
door  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  turns  home- 
ward ;  but  her  bright  spirit  does  not  desert  her  even 
then,  and  she  is  the  light  of  the  home  where  her  par- 
ents still  live. 


BUSINESS   WOMEN.  141 

There  is  another  who  for  twenty-five  years  has  been 
at  the  head  of  a  department  in  a  great  retail  store.  She 
has  bought  and  sold  and  bargained  and  kept  accounts 
till  it  seems  as  if  she  must  have  become  a  mere  calcu- 
lating machine.  She  has  seen  the  worst  side  of  human 
nature,  —  the  side  we  present  when  we  haggle  with  one 
another,  trying  to  buy  cheap  and  sell  dear.  But  through 
all  she  has  kept  a  large,  generous  heart,  which  acts  on 
the  impulse  to  do  a  kindness  without  stopping  to  think 
of  results.  Her  purse,  which  is  well  filled,  is  always  open 
to  the  needy.  Cheerful  and  upright,  she  wins  the  re- 
spect of  even  those  who  are  trying  to  beat  down  her 
prices.  Barter  with  her  becomes  a  merry  game.  How 
can  we  make  the  most  of  these  miscellaneous  goods  for 
both  the  buyer  and  the  seller?  Her  adversary  finally 
discovers  himself  good-naturedly  joining  hands  with  her 
for  the  common  good. 

Another  pale  little  woman  has  stood  behind  the 
counter  for  thirty  years.  She  did  not,  alas  !  choose  this 
work  at  the  outset,  and  it  has  been  very  painful.  But 
she  has  made  it  a  means  of  expressing  a  high  character, 
full  of  love  for  the  beautiful.  All  the  ladies  in  town  can 
rely  on  her  judgment  in  the  selection  of  laces  and  rib- 
bons. Her  patience  and  good-will  are  unfailing,  even 
when  her  head  is  aching  and  she  can  hardly  stand. 
She  has  found  a  niche  for  a  tiny  vase,  and  every  day  it 
holds  a  fresh  flower,  a  pink  or  a  rose  or  a  geranium  from 


142  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

her  little  window-garden.  You  could  hardly  believe  that 
the  beauty  and  fragrance  of  one  flower  could  do  so 
much  to  cheer  and  sweeten  the  day  of  the  salesgirls  at 
that  counter  as  it  really  does.  But  she  loves  the  flower 
so  much  herself,  and  looks  at  it  and  thinks  of  it  so  often 
that  the  girls  look  at  it  too,  and  it  gives  them  refresh- 
ment after  many  an  irritating  passage-at-arms  with  a 
customer,  for  it  turns  the  current  of  their  thoughts. 
Once  in  her  life  this  woman  saved  money  enough  to 
spend  a  week  at  the  White  Mountains.  "  I  will  lift  up 
mine  eyes  to  the  hills,"  she  said,  "  from  whence  cometh 
my  strength."  Every  picture  of  that  bright  week  is 
still  vivid.  It  has  never  been  effaced  by  new  pictures, 
and  she  has  dwelt  lovingly  upon  it  till  it  is  part  of 
herself. 

Another  woman  —  a  rich  woman  —  goes  daily  to  her 
uncle's  counting-house  to  learn  thorough  business  ways. 
She  is  prompt  and  accurate  and  thoughtful  in  the  use 
of  money.  She  has  learned  that  even  a  large  fortune 
does  not  excuse  one  for  idle  expenditures,  and  her 
wealth  is  a  blessing  in  her  hands.  She  has  also  come 
into  unconventional  relations  with  human  beings,  and 
has  learned  by  experience  that  worth  consists  in  what 
we  are  rather  than  in  what  we  have. 

How  many  hundreds  of  women  have  occasion  every 
year  to  be  grateful  for  the  gentle,  well-bred  saleswomen 
at  Hovey's  dry-goods  store  in  Boston,  who  serve  them 


BUSINESS    WOMEN. 


143 


so  politely  and  intelligently  !     "  Every  one  of  them  is  a 
lady,"  says  a  friend,  enthusiastically. 

A  woman  who  has  worked  half  her  life  in  a  factory, 
who  is  still  poor  and  now  growing  old,  keeps  a  few 
chickens,  and  ekes  out  her  scanty  income  by  selling 
eggs.  Her  lot  has  been  very  hard.  It  fell  to  her  to 
support,  not  her  own  father  but  her  step- father,  and 
a  brood  of  his  children  who  were  no  kith  and  kin  of 
hers.  She  did  all  this  cheerfully,  and  her  gentle  courage 
does  not  fail  her  even  in  these  troublous  days.  She 
does  not  mean  to  go  to  the  almshouse,  though,  if  her 
own  toiling  hands  can  ward  off  that  fate.  Still  she  says 
it  is  a  pleasant  house,  standing  on  a  hill,  overlooking 
the  sea.  "  If  I  had  not  done  my  best,"  she  says,  "  of 
course  I  could  never  bear  the  shame  of  going  there. 
But  now,  if  my  strength  fails,  I  shall  feel  that  I  have 
earned  the  rest."  In  the  mean  time  her  sunny  face  is 
welcome  everywhere.  She  gives,  from  a  full  heart, 
sympathy,  work,  and  care ;  and  how  small  a  thing  is  the 
giving  of  money  in  comparison  ! 

If  we  were  to  judge  by  examples  like  these,  we  might 
say  that  a  business  life  was  a  desirable  one ;  and  thus 
far  it  does  seem  to  have  proved  a  blessing  to  women. 
It  has  given  them  independence,  useful  occupation,  and 
to  those  who  have  business  capacity,  a  chance  denied 
to  most  women  who  work  for  wages  to  place  themselves 


144  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

beyond  want.  "But  it  must  be  remembered  that  women 
have  not  yet  often  chosen  a  business  life ;  they  have 
undertaken  it  because  of  the  necessity  of  earning  a 
living.  If  business  should  ever  become  a  passion  with 
women  as  with  many  men,  it  would  degrade  them  even 
more  than  it  does  men,  because  they  have  not  the  ex- 
cuse of  centuries  of  training  in  the  doctrine  that  it  is 
always  a  merit  to  make  a  good  bargain  for  ourselves. 

I  have  known  some  sorrowful  instances  of  lovely  and 
large-hearted  young  girls  who  adopted  a  business  life 
and  became  so  absorbed  in  it  that,  though  still  ready  for 
great  sacrifices,  they  were  entirely  oblivious  to  all  the 
small  courtesies  which  make  so  much  difference  in  the 
daily  happiness  of  one's  companions.  So  far  as  I  can 
judge,  a  business  life  does  squeeze  the  sweetness  out  of 
a  woman  oftener  than  an  intellectual  life  does ;  prob- 
ably because  it  is  merely  a  means  to  an  end,  and  does 
not  in  itself  tend  to  enlarge  or  ennoble  the  character, 
while  it  still  demands  constant  attention.  Of  course 
any  business  pursued  for  the  sake  of  helping  the  world 
is  worth  doing  for  its  own  sake.  And  there  are  also 
many  byways  of  business,  beautiful  and  useful  in  them- 
selves. The  cultivation  of  flowers  for  decoration  and  for 
the  making  of  perfumes  which  is  now  being  carried  on 
so  extensively  by  women  in  California  is  of  this  nature. 
The  enterprise  of  a  Boston  woman  who  takes  care  of 
children  by  the  day  or  hour  (at  fifteen  cents  an  hour 


BUSINESS    WOMEN. 


145 


during  the  daytime,  and  twenty  cents  an  hour  evenings 
and  Sundays),  thus  affording  many  tired  mothers  relief, 
is  another  illustration  of  such  work. 

But  when  a  woman  engages  in  any  business  which  she 
would  not  do  except  for  the  money  it  brings,  the  occu- 
pation, per  se,  is  of  no  use  to  her.  If  she  ought  to  earn 
the  money,  then  her  work  does  develop  her  character ; 
but  there  is  no  virtue  in  simply  wishing  to  get  rich,  and 
no  woman  can  plunge  into  the  competition  necessary  to 
get  rich,  without  running  the  risk  of  crowding  out  every- 
thing which  makes  life  worth  living.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  however,  most  business  women  are  forced  into 
their  work  by  either  their  own  necessities,  or  those  of 
others,  so  that  any  criticism  upon  them  is  almost  cruel. 
If  a  salesgirl  who  has  stood  all  day  at  a  counter  is  too 
tired  for  the  little  amenities  of  life  in  the  evoning,  it 
certainly  is  not  her  fault ;  and  if  she  could  be  delivered 
from  the  hard  work,  there  is  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  develop  into  the  most  charming  of  women.  If  she 
sees  her  way  open  to  a  little  business  on  her  own  ac- 
count where  she  thinks  she  can  earn  more  money  under 
pleasanter  conditions,  it  would  be  imbecile  to  neglect 
her  opportunity.  There  is  no  real  reason  why  she 
should  ever  pause  in  a  prosperous  career  which  does 
not  apply  with  as  much  force  to  every  business  man. 
And  whatever  the  snares  of  great  riches  may  be,  a  little 
money  certainly  lubricates  and  expands  life  so  percep- 

10 


146  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

tibly  that  it  cannot  be  regarded  with  indifference  even 
by  the  most  philosophical  among  us ;  while  to  those 
who  stand  alone  in  the  world,  it  adds  a  special  grace  of 
dignity  which  they  can  ill  afford  to  spare,  to  say  nothing 
of  its  mission  in  soothing  the  anxieties  attending  the  old 
age  of  those  who  have  no  children  to  care  for  them. 
Within  certain  limits,  money  is  so  good  that  we  must 
rejoice  that  avenues  of  business  are  now  open  for  women 
to  accumulate  it.  And  yet  it  is  true  that  when  one's 
whole  mind  is  set  on  making  money,  and  all  one's  thoughts 
are  given  to  the  state  of  the  market,  there  will  be  as 
little  room  left  for  the  best  things  as  in  the  life  of  a 
salesgirl.  A  woman's  early  life  as  a  salesgirl  may  have 
been  heroic  because  she  bravely  faced  necessity  ;  while 
her  later  life  as  an  independent  business  woman  may 
be  merely  sordid  because  she  sacrifices  herself  for  a 
sordid  object.  This  has  not  yet,  however,  proved  to 
be  the  case  with  many  women. 

In  choosing  a  business  life  there  are  three  points  to 
be  considered  ;  namely,  our  capacities,  our  opportunities, 
and  the  nature  of  the  business  itself.  If  the  business 
would  still  be  worth  doing  if  there  were  no  such  thing 
as  money  known,  then  a  woman  need  not  hesitate  to 
throw  herself  heartily  into  it ;  but  even  then  she  must 
be  on  her  guard,  and  not  suffer  it  to  crowd  thought  and 
love  out  of  her  life. 


THE   HOME   INSTINCT.  147 


X. 

THE   HOME   INSTINCT. 

HOW  is  a  single  woman  to  satisfy  the  curiously  two- 
fold home  instinct? 

At  the  root  of  it  lies  the  longing  to  express  ourselves 
fully  and  freely.  The  most  complete  expression  of  the 
heart  is  found  in  the  family  itself,  whether  we  live  in  a 
tent  or  a  palace ;  but  the  most  complete  expression  of 
our  tastes  is  in  the  visible,  material  home,  and  there  is 
very  solid  satisfaction  in  that. 

To  begin  with  this  least  important  factor  of  a  home  : 
there  are  few  unmarried  women  who  can  afford  a  dwell- 
ing-place which  is  any  index  to  their  tastes.  This  is 
not  because  they  are  poorer  than  the  majority  of  mar- 
ried women ;  but  the  expense  of  an  adequate  home  for 
one  person  alone  is  far  greater  than  the  proportional 
share  of  each  one  in  a  family,  and,  of  course,  a  woman 
does  not  often  earn  as  much  as  a  man. 

Even  an  extremely  poor  home  may  be  a  very  charac- 
teristic one,  and  it  usually  is  so  in  the  case  of  a  woman 
who  marrying  early  a  man  likely  to  be  always  poor, 
accepts  the  situation,  and   begins  at  once  to  make  the 


148  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

most  of  it.  But  unmarried  women  who  are  poor  must 
either  live  in  a  family  over  which  another  woman  pre- 
sides, or  they  must  earn  their  living.  Now,  it  is  the 
woman  at  the  head  of  the  house  who  gives  tone  to  it  j 
while  one  who  earns  her  living  must  be  either  a  boarder 
or  a  lodger  in  some  definite  spot  within  a  given  radius, 
and,  in  most  instances,  with  great  uncertainty  as  to  the 
length  of  time  she  can  stay  there  ;  so  there  is  little  stim- 
ulus to  try  to  gather  her  treasures  about  her.  How 
much  women  suffer  from  this  cause  alone  can  never  be 
known  to  any  one  but  women  themselves,  and  it  hardly 
makes  the  matter  easier  to  call  it  trivial. 

Mrs.  Oliphant,  with  her  eye  for  typical  facts,  de- 
scribes the  feelings  of  a  curate's  wife  who  moves  into  a 
house  where  the  carpets  purchased  by  the  former  cu- 
rate are  still  on  the  floors,  having  been  included  in  the 
bargain  settling  the  terms  of  rental.  The  poor  lady 
received  all  callers  with  embarrassment  caused  by  won- 
dering whether  they  would  suppose  that  she  had  selected 
those  carpets  herself!  Fancy,  then,  the  feelings  of 
those  who  live  all  their  lives  with  furniture  selected  by 
other  people  ! 

A  woman  of  taste,  living  in  a  lodging-house,  once  told 
a  friend  that  her  landlady's  feelings  were  likely  to  be  so 
hurt  at  any  readjustment  of  the  pictures  provided  for 
the  tenants  that  she  had  found  it  easier  to  let  them 
hang  where  they  were.     She  said  she  could  bear  them 


THE    HOME   INSTINCT.  149 

when  alone  by  not  looking  at  them,  but  that  it  gave  her  a 
shudder  when  she  saw  a  visitor's  eye  resting  upon  them. 
"  How  weak  you  are  !  "  replied  her  friend.  "  Why  don't 
you  send  for  your  own  pictures  "  (these  were  packed  up 
in  the  attic  of  a  relative's  house) ,  "  and  tell  her  you  are 
afraid  you  have  not  room  for  hers?"  " Because,"  was 
the  answer,  "  though  I  have  been  here  two  years,  my 
work  is  so  precarious  that  I  have  never  been  able  to 
look  forward  many  months ;  and  as  I  have  to  economize 
closely,  I  have  felt  it  would  be  better  not  to  be  at  the 
expense."  Yet,  if  this  woman  had  been  a  widow  with 
children,  situated  in  just  the  same  way,  she  would  prob- 
ably have  spent  the  few  necessary  dollars  and  have  en- 
joyed a  refined  room.  She  had  not,  however,  the  heart 
to  make  the  struggle  for  herself  alone.  It  is  certainly 
a  heavy  task  to  transport  all  one's  Lares  and  Penates 
from  one  boarding-house  to  another;  and  to  do  this 
often,  with  the  complete  furnishings  of  even  one  room, 
is  a  labour  far  beyond  the  powers  of  most  maiden 
ladies. 

There  are  a  few  active  women  who  impress  themselves 
straightway  on*  every  room  they  enter,  but  most  of  us 
cannot  do  this  without  some  promise  of  permanence  to 
inspire  us. 

A  very  simple  home  is  often  far  more  beautiful  than 
a  house  crowded  with  costly  furnishings  which  have  no 
clear  connection  with  the  character  of  the  owner;  but 


150  THE   UNMARKIKI)    WOMAN. 

even  the  simplest  home  cannot  be  created  without 
thought  and  time.  A  woman  who  works  hard  all  day 
in  earning  a  living  may  have  a  great  longing  for  a  home, 
and  may  have  the  capacity  to  make  one  out  of  very 
slight  materials,  and  yet  she  is  too  tired  to  do  it.  A 
home  cannot  be  made  once  for  all  by  buying  carpets 
and  chairs  and  tables,  or  even  with  the  addition  of 
books  and  pictures.  It  must  be  a  place  of  growth.  It 
must  be  lived  in,  and  the  finishing  touches  which  give 
it  vitality  must  be  added  from  hour  to  hour.  A  woman 
who  spends  all  her  fresh  hours  in  an  office  or  a  school 
can  seldom  rearrange  her  flowers  or  her  pictures,  or 
devise  new  draperies  to  add  grace  to  her  rooms.  Far 
less  can  she  make  her  home  the  gathering-place  for 
friends.  It  must  be  a  very  dear  friend  indeed  whom 
she  is  quite  ready  to  see  at  the  moment  she  has  thrown 
herself  exhausted  on  her  lounge.  A  few  women  who 
combine  the  genius  for  home-making  with  great  physical 
-vigour  do  succeed  in  this  difficult  task;  but  the  ideal 
home  is  usually  the  work  of  a  woman  to  whom  it  is  the 
chief  work.  The  mothers  of  families  are  quite  as  busy 
as  the  single  women  who  are  wage-earners,  but  they 
are  usually  busy  about  just  such  things  as  are  crowded 
out  of  the  lives  of  the  wage-earners.  It  takes  a  certain 
kind  of  leisure  to  make  a  home.  The  mother  who  is 
watering  her  flowers,  or  dressing  a  child's  doll,  or  enter- 
taining a  valued  friend,  has  this  kind  of  leisure,  though 
she  may  not  be  idle  a  moment  in  the  day. 


THE   HOME   INSTINCT.  151 

The  homes  of  old  maids  are  believed  to  suffer  so 
from  over-neatness  that  this  is  sometimes  accounted  a 
crotchet  of  the  unmarried.  Do  we  not  all  wish  to  be 
neat?  Is  not  neatness  an  element  of  beauty?  Yet  a 
perfectly  neat  room  is  never  beautiful,  for  it  has  no  life. 
The  neat  old  maid  puts  her  room  in  order,  and  things 
stay  put.  How  prim  and  dreary  it  is  !  The  neat 
mother  of  a  family  puts  her  room  in  order,  and  the 
bevy  of  children  rearrange  it  in  half  an  hour,  simply  by 
living  in  it.  The  most  carefully  dusted  chair  does  not 
look  prim  with  a  doll  in  it.  The  most  perfectly  swept 
carpet  does  not  seem  too  good  to  tread  upon  when  a 
child  is  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  No  room 
can  be  too  exquisitely  clean  for  beauty,  provided  the 
neatness  is  the  frame  of  the  picture  and  not  the  picture 
itself.  But  the  maiden  lady  who  has  no  picture  is 
laughed  at  for  making  ready  her  spotless  frame.  More 
and  more,  however,  single  women  are  becoming  so  in- 
terested in  life  that  —  to  use  the  comprehensive  words 
of  a  friend  —  they  are  learning  to  "  keep  their  house 
instead  of  letting  their  house  keep  them."  When  a 
woman  has  something  to  do  which  eagerly  interests  her, 
the  most  immaculate  room  will  receive  a  few  uncon- 
scious touches  which  give  it  vitality.  In  some  cases, 
indeed,  we  go  to  the  other  extreme.  Too  much  ac- 
tivity produces  nervousness  instead  of  life,  and  there  is 
no  repose,  but  only  confusion.     The  untidy  old  maid  is 


52 


THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 


often  a  charming  creature,  but  her  foibles  are  of  such  a 
nature  that  she  cannot  really  expect  they  will  not  be 
laughed  at. 

A  rich  woman  can,  if  she  chooses,  have  a  home  which 
shall  express  her  tastes,  and  if  she  has  a  circle  of  pleasant 
friends  and  sufficient  love  for  intellectual  pursuits,  her 
home-life  may  be  very  agreeable ;  but  even  then  the 
best  of  it  is  wanting  if  the  woman  must  live  alone.  It 
may  seem,  to  those  who  have  never  thought  about  it,  as 
though  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  find  congenial  friends 
to  fill  such  a  home.  It  is  not  easy,  however.  It  may 
be  the  result  of  the  customs  of  generations,  but  it  ap- 
pears to  be  true  that  satisfactory  daily  companionship  is 
difficult  unless  there  is  some  tie  of  duty,  and  that  it  is 
equally  difficult  unless  there  is  some  element  of  choice- 
For  example,  the  family  into  which  we  are  born  has  a 
claim  upon  us  which  is  usually  far  more  a  blessing  than 
a  bond.  The  sentiment  of  duty  holds  us  even  when 
we  are  called  upon  to  sacrifice  many  of  our  tastes  to 
those  of  other  members  of  the  family.  Now,  when  we 
choose  friends  for  ourselves  we  do  not  feel  that  we  are 
so  bound,  and  very  slight  friction  of  tastes  leads  us  to 
throw  off  these  bonds.  On  the  other  hand,  if  there  is 
no  real  congeniality  between  the  members  of  a  family 
the  tie  of  duty  alone  is  almost  too  irksome  to  be  borne. 
Now,  in  marriage  there  is,  first,  the  free  choice  which 
glorifies   the   relation,   and    then   the   irrevocable   duty 


THE    HOME    INSTINCT. 


53 


which  holds  those  firm  who  might  otherwise  be  sepa- 
rated by  the  least  jar.  Circumstances  thus  help  to 
strengthen  the  union,  though  of  course  an  unhappy 
marriage  is  far  worse  than  an  unsuitable  friendship. 

How  is  it  possible  for  a  single  woman,  however  rich, 
to  have  any  share  in  genuine  family  life?  A  family 
consists  naturally  of  a  man,  a  woman,  and  children. 
If  any  of  these  elements  are  wanting,  the  home  life  can 
hardly  be  saved  from  one-sidedness.  But  when  there 
are  two  women  in  a  home,  one  is  frequently  de  trop. 
The  richest  of  women  can  hardly  take  a  whole  family 
into  her  home  with  any  prospect  of  making  it  home- 
like. She  can  adopt  children,  to  be  sure,  and  she  can 
probably  find  some  friend  among  women  who  will  give 
her  the  daily  companionship  of  thought  which  we  all 
need,  ^though  unless  both  women  can  contribute  equally 
to  the  menage,  one  or  the  other  is  likely  to  suffer  some 
secret  pangs.  Two  women  do,  however,  often  make  a 
home  together  which  is  far  more  delightful  than  most 
married  homes,  especially  if  they  share  it  with  children. 
Nevertheless  there  will  always  be  a  distinct  want  in  any 
household  where  there  is  not  a  man.  A  woman  who 
does  not  have  a  daily  opportunity  of  seeing  the  affairs 
of  life  through  the  eyes  of  a  man  is  always  in  danger  of 
unsymmetrical  development,  though  she  may  not  be 
aware  of  this,  and  may  be  perfectly  contented  with  her 
lot. 


154  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

An  unmarried  woman,  however,  can  seldom  have  this 
opportunity  in  her  own  home.  That  is  unfortunate,  but 
it  cannot  be  helped.  All  conditions  of  life  have  their 
peculiar  disadvantages.  Occasionally  an  unmarried 
woman  has  an  unmarried  brother  for  whom  it  is  her 
great  pleasure  to  keep  house ;  and  if  an  orphan  nephew 
or  niece  falls  to  the  charge  of  the  two,  the  home  is 
sometimes  ideal,  though  of  course  that  depends  on  the 
character  of  the  inmates. 

A  lady  who  had  kept  house  for  her  brother  for  some 
years  tells  me  that  she  had  often  caught  herself  saying 
of  one  thing  or  another,  ''Since  I  was  married,"  etc. 
She  had  been  separated  from  her  brother  while  they 
were  growing  up,  and  when  he  was  able  to  give  her  a 
home,  the  planning  for  it,  the  furnishing,  the  deciding 
how  to  make  it  most  charming  to  their  friends  all 
seemed  so  much  like  the  accessories  of  marriage  that  it 
is  no  wonder  she  made  the  slip. 

The  women  who  choose  to  stay  in  the  homes  of  their 
fathers  and  mothers  also  have  much  of  the  real  home 
life,  though  their  position  must  of  course  be  subor- 
dinate. They  do  not  always  have  an  opportunity  to 
express  their  tastes,  but  they  can  express  their  love ; 
and  that  is  much  better,  though  some  women  do  not 
realize   it  till  it  is  too  late. 

A  great  many  ardent  women  have  an  intense  longing 
to   order  the   home   of  those  they  love.      They  would 


THE   HOME   INSTINCT.  155 

gladly  take  all  the  care  off  their  sisters  and  sisters-in- 
law,  and  give  themselves  up  heart  and  soul  to  all  the 
details  of  drudgery ;  and  this  is  not  because  they  love 
the  perfection  of  the  house,  but  because  they  love  the 
people  in  it.  A  lady  who  had  made  an  ideal  home  for 
her  sisters  sold  her  house  at  once  after  the  last  sister 
married,  and  engaged  a  boarding-place.  She  seemed 
to  have  a  genius  for  home-making,  and  had  always 
enjoyed  her  cares  heartily ;  so  that  some  one  asked  her, 
in  surprise,  why  she  did  not  keep  her  home.  "  You 
could  have  everything  exactly  as  you  like  now,"  said 
the  inquirer,  who  had  observed  how  often  her  friend  had 
given  up  her  most  cherished  fancies  to  please  her  sis- 
ters. "  Do  you  really  suppose,"  returned  the  lady, 
"  that  there  would  be  any  pleasure  to  me  in  carrying 
on  a  house  for  myself  alone?" 

Does  not  this  answer  shame  those  of  us  who  are 
impatient  because  we  cannot  consult  all  our  little 
whims  ?  Yet  I  fear  that  the  lady  was  practically  wrong. 
She  could  have  cared  for  others  besides  her  sisters  in  a 
home  of  her  own;  and  it  would  have  been  good  for 
everybody  that  she  should  have  used  her  great  gift,  and 
for  once  have  expressed  her  own  ideas  of  a  home  fully, 
without  being  hampered  by  those  of  anybody  else. 

Moreover,  it  seems  to  be  unfortunately  true  that  the 
service  of  those  women  who  most  wish  to  do  something 
for   others   is   generally  least   welcomed    by  their   own 


156  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

relatives,  —  perhaps  because  it  is  a  family  trait  to  like 
to  take  the  initiative  in  good  works.  One  who  has  the 
most  numerous  and  ingenious  plans  for  the  management 
of  a  home,  and  who  would  therefore  be  the  most  ad- 
mirable head  of  a  household,  provided  she  had  married 
a  man  of  kindred  tastes  and  was  training  children  of  her 
own,  is  likely  to  be  too  original  for  the  comfort  of  her 
parents  and  brothers  and  sisters  and  nephews  and 
nieces,  who  have  not  chosen  her  before  all  the  world, 
and  who  do  not  feel  bound  to  obey  her.  I  do  not  mean 
that  such  women  are  selfish  or  overbearing ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  are  ready  to  spend  their  last  fragment  of 
strength  in  working  for  the  family,  and  all  their  ob- 
noxious plans  are  formed  for  the  welfare  of  somebody 
besides  themselves.  But  the  plans  seem  so  good  to 
them  that  it  is  hard  for  them  to  understand  that  they 
may  not  be  attractive  to  the  very  people  who  are  to 
be  benefited  by  them.  One  woman,  for  instance,  pro- 
vides a  substantial,  well-cooked  dinner,  but  serves  it  in 
heavy  earthenware,  for  a  sister  who  cares  little  for  beef 
and  pudding,  but  would  feel  herself  nourished  by  wafers 
of  bread  laid  on  delicate  china  plates.  The  first  sister 
is  sure  she  is  right  in  preparing  the  good  dinner,  for 
that  will  promote  health ;  and  what  is  so  important 
as  health?  The  second  sister  is  no  less  certain  that 
it  is  better  "to  die  for  beauty  than  live  for  bread." 
Both  are  fine,  unselfish  women ;   but  neither  has  all  the 


THE    HOME    INSTINCT. 


157 


virtues,  and  those  of  one  do  not  happen  to  harmonize 
with  those  of  the  other.  If  they  are  ideal  women,  they 
may  work  together.  One  will  cook  the  dinner,  and  the 
other  will  lay  the  table ;  but  they  will  never  do  this 
while  one  thinks  beautiful  china  superfluous,  or  the  other 
thinks  a  hearty  dinner  is  coarse.  Though  there  may 
be  a  jar  which  prevents  their  being  happy  together,  the 
first  sister  might  make  an  extremely  cosey  home  for 
somebody  else,  who  could  overlook  the  crockery  in  con- 
sideration of  the  beef ;  and  the  second  sister  might  plan 
delightfully  for  somebody  in  whom  the  aesthetic  nature 
predominated.  It  is  a  pity  that  all  women  who  have 
ideas  should  not  sometime  have  a  chance  to  carry  them 
out ;  but  the  place  to  carry  out  one's  own  plans  is  not  in 
other  people's  houses.  There  one  has  to  follow  the  lead 
of  others.  It  is  only  the  undisputed  mistress  of  a  house 
who  can  risk  trying  her  own  experiments.  A  married 
woman,  on  the  assumption  that  her  husband's  tastes 
harmonize  with  her  own,  or  two  single  women,  not 
relatives,  who  have  chosen  each  other  because  of 
congeniality,  or  any  woman  who  is  sole  head  of  the 
family  —  its  other  members  being  young  enough  to  be 
her  children  —  may  venture  to  act  upon  her  own  plans. 
Under  other  circumstances,  such  an  attempt  is  not  only 
mistaken,  but  it  is  sure  to  be  called  old-maidish, — 
which  is  ironically  hard,  since  the  women  who  meet 
such    judgment    are    exactly    those    who    would    have 


158  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

managed    a    family    most    admirably  if   they  had    been 
married. 

Nevertheless,  if  I  may  make  the  distinction,  though 
a  single  woman  cannot  have  the  ideal  home,  she  may 
have  an  ideal  home.  I  could  give  a  long  list  of  such 
homes. 

Two  charming  women,  who  were  once  teachers,  live 
together  in  a  little  cottage  surrounded  by  a  garden. 
One  of  them,  a  gentle  invalid,  with  a  refreshing  tang 
of  humour  in  all  she  says,  gives  her  little  strength  to  the 
study  of  literature ;  the  other,  frank  and  outspoken,  digs 
and  delves  in  the  garden,  goes  to  market,  and  oversees 
the  household.  The  invalid  enjoys  the  fragrant  garden 
which  she  could  not  possibly  cultivate ;  and  her  friend, 
though  she  would  never  have  patience  to  select  what 
she  cares  for  from  the  general  mass  of  literature,  appre- 
ciates the  poems  and  the  essays  which  the  invalid  shares 
with  her. 

A  sweet  and  affectionate  woman  stays  with  her 
parents  in  her  childhood's  home.  All  the  treasures  of 
her  lifetime  are  about  her,  As  one  after  another  of  her 
brothers  and  sisters  has  married,  and  the  pleasant  care 
of  her  father  and  mother  has  devolved  more  and  more 
upon  her,  the  filial  ties  have  become  closer  and  closer. 
Her  father,  a  gentleman  of  incorruptible  integrity  both 
in  business  and   in  politics,   is  a  leader  in  the   world. 


THE    HOME   INSTINCT. 


159 


Thus  this  woman  has  an  unusual  opportunity  to  look  out 
on  life  through  the  eyes  of  a  man,  and  is  saved  from  fall- 
ing into  sentimentality,  which  so  often  proves  a  snare  to 
a  sweet  woman.  She  is  of  course  subordinate  to  her 
mother ;  but  her  mother  is  herself  so  sweet,  and  the 
tastes  of  the  two  are  so  alike,  that  the  harmony  is  com- 
plete. It  sometimes  seems  sad  that  a  woman  of  this 
gracious  type  should  have  no  children  of  her  own ;  but 
by  the  time  her  little  brothers  and  sisters  were  grown 
up,  the  house  began  to  resound  to  the  prattle  of  the 
flock  of  nephews  and  nieces ;  and  she  is  never  without 
one  of  them  to  keep  her  young  and  happy.  I  think  she 
has  a  genuine  home,  though  she  will  not  be  at  the  head 
of  it,  let  us  hope,  for  many  a  year.  Her  freedom  from 
its  cares  gives  her  time  for  "pursuits,"  and  she  has 
become  a  skilled  botanist;  while  her  knowledge  of 
political  economy  makes  her  an  interesting  companion 
for  very  wise  men.  As  she  is  rich,  of  course  she  helps 
the  poor ;  and  as  she  has  time  for  sympathy  as  well  as 
gifts,  her  ministrations  are  most  welcome.  The  ways  of 
life  are  inscrutable  ;  but  as  there  is  always  a  fascination 
in  tracing  the  providence  in  other  people's  discipline, 
I  will  merely  venture  the  suggestion  that  if  this  woman 
—  who  seems  to  all  her  friends  as  marked  out  to  be  a 
perfect  wife,  mother,  and  manager  of  a  household  — 
had  married,  her  sweetness,  unfortified  by  real  intel- 
lectual labour,  might  have  degenerated  into  weakness. 


l()0  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

Of  all  Trollope's  lifelike  pictures,  where  is  there  a 
pleasanter  one  than  the  home  of  Lily  Dale  and  her 
mother,  in  "The  Small  House  at  Allington"  ?  Its  charm 
is  hard  to  define ;  but  Mrs.  Dale  picking  peas  in  the 
garden,  and  Lily  opening  a  letter  at  the  breakfast- table, 
and  the  pretty  Bell  in  her  brown  holland  dress  all  con- 
tribute to  it,  and  it  has  far  more  to  do  in  alluring  one 
to  a  second  reading  of  the  book  than  all  the  scenes  in 
Lily's  stormy  love-affair  or  Bell's  quiet  one.  Lily,  who 
writes  the  letters  "  O.  M."  —  to  stand  for  "Old  Maid"  — 
after  her  name,  states  briefly  the  situation  in  the  home 
to  her  mother,  in  some  such  words  as  these  :  "  We  have 
both  lost  something,  we  are  crippled  for  life ;  but  you 
have  me  left,  and  I  have  you."  There  was  a  strong 
love  at  the  foundation  of  the  home ;  and  in  its  outward 
form,  its  pretty  rooms  and  green  lawn  and  merry  econo- 
mies all  breathed  the  spirit  of  freedom  and  refined 
comfort. 

In  larger  families,  where  one  daughter  is  not  always 
so  essential  to  the  comfort  of  the  parents,  it  is  not, 
perhaps,  best  that  she  should  resign  her  individuality 
and  stay  at  home.  Miss  Bremer,  in  one  of  her  stories, 
tells  us  of  a  beautiful  and  refined  home  in  which  every 
member  of  the  family  circle  was  high-minded  and  agree- 
able;  but  she  shows  that  nevertheless  the  unmarried 
daughters  felt  themselves  out  of  place.     There  was  no 


THE    HOME  INSTINCT.  i6l 

scope  for  the  expansion  of  their  perfectly  innocent  origi- 
nal tastes.  Two  of  them,  therefore,  decided  to  make  a 
home  of  their  own  together.  They  loved  their  parents, 
and  wanted  to  see  them  very  often ;  so  they  arranged 
their  home  on  the  upper  floor  of  the  family  mansion. 
In  it  they  found  room  for  many  activities  which  had 
inevitably  been  repressed  in  the  old  nest.  Everybody 
was  the  happier  in  consequence.  That  an  unmarried 
woman  of  Miss  Bremer's  warm  heart,  good  sense,  and 
shrewd  observation  should  deliberately  set  off  some 
of  her  very  attractive  heroines  from  their  equally 
attractive  father  and  mother  in  this  way,  is  in  itself  an 
index  to  the  feeling  of  single  women  in  general.  In 
most  cases  the  difficulty  of  coming  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment without  wounding  somebody's  feelings  very  deeply, 
would  prevent  its  being  tried. 

But  many  women  do  choose  some  companion  among 
women,  and  the  two  do  make  a  home  which  is  ideally 
harmonious.  When  a  woman  is  left  entirely  alone  in 
the  world,  there  can  hardly  be  any  doubt  that  she  will 
be  far  happier  if  she  can  find  some  congenial  compan- 
ion of  nearly  her  own  age  to  share  her  daily  life  on 
equal  terms.  There  is  a  difficulty  in  the  case  of  any 
paid  companion,  however  dear  a  friend  she  may  be ;  for 
while  the  richer  woman  may  be  willing  and  glad  to 
pay,  and  the  poorer  may  be  in  dire  need,  the  poorer 
will   naturally  yield  to   the   richer,  and   the    bond  will 


1 62  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

chafe  one,  while  a  subtle  selfishness  will  grow  up  in  the 
other.  I  am  happy  to  say,  however,  that  even  in  my 
own  experience  I  know  instances  which  contradict  what 
I  have  said,  because  both  women  have  such  unworldly 
characters. 

Unfortunately,  two  women  can  seldom  choose  each 
other  entirely  for  love.  A  woman  who  is  earning  her 
living  must  be  satisfied  with  some  friend  within  reach, 
though  somebody  far  away  may  be  much  dearer.  But 
there  are  so  many  delightful  unappropriated  women  in  the 
world  that  few  need  to  be  condemned  to  utter  loneliness. 
I  remember  two  teachers  who  set  up  a  Bohemian  kind 
of  home  in  a  lodging-house,  going  outside  for  their 
meals.  The  mother  of  one  of  them,  who  lived  in  a 
distant  town,  remonstrated  with  her  daughter.  She 
reasoned  that  a  home  was  essential  to  the  perfection 
and  delicacy  of  a  woman's  character.  She  had  never 
herself  experienced  the  homelessness  of  boarding- 
houses.  Her  daughter  explained  to  her  that  in 
boarding,  even  if  you  are  so  exceptionally  happy  as 
to  find  an  entrance  into  a  home  complete  in  all  its 
appointments  and  with  a  thoroughly  united  family,  it 
is  not,  after  all,  your  home,  and  the  family  is  not  your 
family.  The  mother  then  acquiesced  in  the  plan.  The 
teachers  were  very  happy  together.  They  could  not,  of 
course,  carry  out  all  their  views  about  eating  and  drink- 
ing ;   but  they  could  choose  their  own  hours  for  every- 


THE   HOME   INSTINCT.  163 

thing,  they  could  arrange  their  rooms  as  they  pleased, 
they  could  talk  or  keep  silence,  and  they  could  welcome 
their  own  visitors  without  being  bored  by  those  of  other 
people.  Do  those  who  have  homes  appreciate  at  all 
the  desolation  of  the  women  who  have  to  ask  a  land- 
lady if  it  will  be  convenient  before  they  invite  a  guest? 
Or  do  those  who  have  not  homes  realize  at  all  the 
charm  of  being  able  to  ask  friends  to  visit  us  whenever 
we  choose? 

These  teachers  admitted  that  their  life  was  narrow, 
compared  with  that  of  a  larger  family  with  a  man  at 
the  head  of  it ;  but  they  declared  they  did  not  feel  the 
pinch  of  its  narrowness  half  as  much  as  that  of  their 
old  life  when  boarding,  and  they  had  a  wide  daily 
outlook,  —  which  is  not  always  true  of  wives  with  hus- 
bands and  children.  In  fact,  they  regarded  most  of 
their  married  acquaintances  with  genuine  pity. 

Sometimes  half-a-dozen  teachers  combine  in  one 
household.  Many  such  schemes  are  brilliantly  suc- 
cessful. This  is  surprising,  when  it  is  considered  that 
every  new  element  in  a  family  is  a  possible  element  of 
discord.  But  many  a  woman  who  is  a  very  disagreeable 
addition  to  her.  married  sister's  family  is  thoroughly  in 
place  in  such  a  voluntary  association,  —  probably  be- 
cause all  the  members  have  equal  rights,  and  the  code 
of  the  household  is  arranged  with  equal  reference  to 
all.     I  doubt,   however,   if  so  large  a  family  would  be 


164  THE    UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

successful  if  its  members  were  women  of  leisure.  The 
teachers,  of  course,  spend  the  greater  part  of  their  day 
in  absorbing  work,  and  they  have  no  time  for  jangling. 
When  artists  or  authors  or  dressmakers  or  saleswomen 
combine  with  teachers,  so  that  no  two  members  of  the 
household  have  exactly  the  same  occupation,  it  is  said 
that  the  experiment  is  still  more  satisfactory,  because 
each  brings  something  fresh  into  the  life. 

It  would  be  folly  to  look  upon  unmarried  women  as 
a  class,  and  suppose  the  home  suited  to  one  is  suited 
to  all  j  but  it  is  worth  every  such  woman's  while  to 
consider  whether  she  has  the  best  home  within  her 
reach,  and  to  make  sure  that  she  does  not  miss  it 
through  indolence  or  timidity. 


THE    LOVE   OF   CHILDREN.  165 


XL 

THE   LOVE    OF   CHILDREN. 

PROBABLY  no  human  being  ever  rose  to  anything 
like  full  stature  without  at  some  time  having  the 
responsible  care  of  a  child.  Both  men  and  women 
need  the  training  which  children  give.  Women,  how- 
ever, seem  to  long  for  the  love  of  children  more  than 
men  do ;  and  the  deepest  grief  of  many  an  unmarried 
woman  is  that  she  has  no  child  of  her  own. 

To  win  the  love  of  a  child  that  does  not  belong  to 
you  is  not  an  easy  thing,  partly,  of  course,  because,  hav- 
ing no  control  over  such  a  child,  your  allurements  must 
be  served  chiefly  in  the  form  of  comfits  and  kisses, 
which  are  not  a  very  solid  foundation  for  enduring  af- 
fection, and  partly,  alas  !  because  you  seldom  love  the 
child  of  another  enough.  Supreme  love  of  a  child  in- 
volves absolute  self-abnegation ;  for  a  child  can  never 
make  any  material  return  for  our  sacrifices,  and  often 
returns  only  a  lukewarm  love.  In  the  case  of  one's 
own  children  the  sacrifices  must  be  made,  and  they 
bring  their  own  great  reward ;  but  to  make  sacrifices 
not  required   of  us,  in  cold  ,blood,  is  rather  hard.     We 


1 66  THE   UNMARRIED  WOMAN. 

postpone  them  to  a  more  convenient  season ;  and  the 
child  we  had  begun  to  love,  in  the  mean  time  grows  up. 

To  love  children  and  to  love  to  take  care  of  them  are 
different  things  ;  and  the  love  of  children  in  general  is 
also  very  different  from  the  overwhelming  love  we  can 
give  to  the  few  who  depend  upon  us.  The  most  inflex- 
ible of  old  maids,  who  hates  the  noise  and  nonsense  of 
her  neighbour's  children,  will  almost  always  have  one 
favourite  among  them  for  whom  she  will  encounter  fire 
and  water. 

Most  unmarried  women  look  with  hungry  hearts  at 
the  troops  of  sweet  little  children  clustering  about  their 
married  friends.  Some  of  them  dream,  like  Miss  Matty 
of  "  Cranford,"  that  a  dear  little  child  belongs  to  them. 
Perhaps  they  idealize  the  relation  between  mother  and 
child,  and  perhaps  some  of  them,  if  they  had  children 
of  their  own,  would  be  as  willing  to  leave  them  to  the 
care  of  servants  as  some  of  their  married  friends  are. 
And  then  all  children  do  not  grow  up  either  affectionate 
or  dutiful.  No  childless  woman  can  be  so  lonely  or  so 
painfully  forlorn  as  the  mother  whose  children  find  her 
an  inconvenience.  Any  woman  who  repines  at  her  fate 
would  do  well  to  read  some  of  Mrs.  Oliphant's  stories,  — 
"  Madonna  Mary,"  or  "  Harry  Jocelyn,"  for  instance, 
where  she  paints  a  mother's  disappointed  surprise  as 
she  finds  her  children  growing  up  into  something  very 
unideal,  while  they  relegate  her  to  some  obscure  corner, 


THE   LOVE  OF   CHILDREN.  167 

as  if  her  days  were  all  spent.  We  need  not  believe  that 
this  is  the  common  lot ;  but  we  must  acknowledge  that 
it  is  not  very  uncommon. 

Nevertheless,  the  prompting  of  the  heart  is  certainly 
right.  To  live  without  the  love  of  children  is  a  terrible 
doom,  and  not  the  less  terrible  when  it  is  met  uncon- 
sciously, as  an  Arctic  traveller  freezes  to  death  in  the 
silent  cold.  Yet  of  what  avail  is  it  to  realize  this?  It 
is  hopeless  to  expect  that  other  people's  children  will 
ever  be  the  same  as  one's  own,  and  what  can  an  un- 
married woman  do  to  satisfy  her  yearning  love  ? 

Suppose  the  childless  adopt  children.  The  experi- 
ment fails  as  often  as  it  succeeds.  The  child  is  seldom 
in  a  natural  environment,  and  with  the  best  intentions, 
the  adopted  mother  is  at  cross-purposes  with  the  little 
one.  An  only  child,  with  but  one  parent,  is  always  at  a 
disadvantage ;  and  the  more  so  when  the  parent  belongs 
to  an  entirely  different  stock  from  itself.  Then  a  young 
woman  seldom  makes  up  her  mind  positively  that  she 
will  never  marry,  and  by  the  time  that  conviction  be- 
comes settled,  she  is  too  old  to  enter  as  heartily  into 
youthful  interests  as  is  essential.  With  all  these  draw- 
backs, the  woman  needs  the  child,  and  the  child  usually 
needs  the  woman,  so  perhaps  it  is  cowardly  not  to  try 
the  experiment. 

Sometimes  it  is  a  blessed  success.  The  woman  finds 
an  outlet  for  her  loving  heart,  and  cherishes  the  child  as 


1 68  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

if  it  were  her  own  ;  and  the  child  equally  large-hearted, 
appreciates  and  responds  to  the  love.  The  two  are  fast 
friends  and  companions  in  all  their  pursuits.  The  child 
cares  most  tenderly  for  the  age  of  the  adopted  mother, 
whose  unselfish  devotion  has  made  a  full  life  possible. 

A  rich  woman  who  at  thirty-five  would  take  three  or 
four  little  children  —  real  brothers  and  sisters,  if  pos- 
sible —  into  her  home,  would  probably  find  great  hap- 
piness in  store  for  her ;  that  is,  of  course,  if  she  chose 
children  to  whom  she  felt  really  drawn,  and  if  she 
were  willing  to  give  herself  up  to  them  as  if  they  were 
her  own.  Few  women  are  rich  enough  to  try  such  an 
experiment,  and  those  who  are  are  held  back  by  many 
considerations.  No  family  is  so  rich  that  all  the  heirs 
of  a  childless  woman  do  not  feel  that  they  have  a  claim 
on  her  property,  so  that  the  pressure  within  one's  own 
circle  against  adopting  children  is  often  too  great  to  be 
borne.  And  then,  if  a  woman  lives  alone  till  she  is 
thirty-five,  her  little  daily  habits  have  usually  become  to 
her  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  She 
wishes  she  had  a  brood  of  children  about  her,  but  she 
would  be  horrified  by  finger-marks  on  the  window-pane 
or  muddy  footprints  in  the  hall.  If  she  could  not  get 
time  to  read  her  paper  at  the  breakfast-table,  she  would 
feel  that  the  earth  ought  to  pause  in  its  revolution  till 
she  had  caught  up  with  the  news. 

Furthermore,  she  often  chooses  to  stay  in  her  father's 


THE    LOVE   OF  CHILDREN.  169 

house ;  and  there,  of  course,  she  is  not  at  liberty  to  in- 
troduce new  elements.  In  this  case  there  is  a  com- 
pensation ;  in  caring  for  her  parents  there  is  room  for 
active  love. 

Most  women  cannot  afford  to  adopt  a  child.  That  is 
very  sad,  for  the  poor  women  in  lonely  lodging-houses 
stand  in  greatest  need  of  the  life  and  cheer  of  children. 
Still,  some  poor  women  do  wonderful  things.  A  teacher 
who  had  asked  her  scholars  to  do  some  experiment  at 
home  which  required  a  warm  room,  told  me  that  one  of 
the  finest  girls  in  the  class  came  to  her  and  said  simply : 
"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  do  the  experiment.  I  live  with 
my  aunt  in  one  room,  and  we  cannot  always  afford  to 
have  a  fire." 

A  married  friend  says  to  her  daughters  :  "  Whatever 
your  fate,  never  live  alone.  If  you  have  no  one  belong- 
ing to  you,  find  some  child  you  can  help.  And  don't 
wait  till  it  would  be  easy  to  support  a  child  before  you 
find  one.     Go  without  something  you  need  instead." 

Nevertheless,  though  love  and  willing  effort  go  far  to 
supplement  strength,  most  women  who  must  earn  their 
living  have  demands  made  upon  them  which  take  all 
their  strength  as  well  as  all  their  money.  A  widow  can 
support  her  children,  though  the  struggle  is  hard,  be- 
cause everybody  recognizes  it  to  be  her  duty ;  but  what 
employer  would  be  indulgent  to  a  woman  who  over- 
tasked  herself  to   adopt  a  child?     What   family  would 


170  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

excuse  a  woman  from  her  share  in  the  family  burdens 
because  she  had  pleased  herself  by  taking  a  stranger  to 
bring  up?  And  probably  she  ought  not  to  be  excused. 
We  are  to  do  our  plain  duties,  first,  before  we  find  out 
new  and  more  delightful  ones. 

Still,  in  spite  of  all  the  difficulties,  there  must  be 
thousands  of  women  who  would  be  both  happier  and 
better  if  they  would  adopt  a  child  or  two ;  and  though 
they  could  not  give  children  an  ideal  home,  they  could 
at  least  give  them  one  well  worth  having. 

It  is  often  said  glibly  that  a  teacher's  compensation  is 
in  the  love  of  her  scholars.  It  is  oftener  said  by  out- 
siders than  by  teachers  themselves.  The  love  of  chil- 
dren for  their  teachers  is  usually  an  exceedingly  shallow 
stream,  especially  in  those  cases  where  the  children  pass 
on  to  a  new  instructor  every  year.  The  more  devotedly 
a  teacher  loves  her  pupils,  the  harder  it  is  to  part  from 
one  class  after  another,  —  to  watch  a  seedling  perhaps 
till  it  begins  to  bud,  and  then  to  turn  away  from  it  and 
begin  to  cultivate  another  seedling  with  the  same  as- 
siduity. That  teachers  can  bear  this  continual  wear 
and  tear  of  the  affections  at  all,  argues  them  to  be  either 
the  largest-hearted  or  the  least  .  exacting  of  human 
beings.  The  trial  is  increased  by  the  fact  that  only  a 
few  teachers  are  capable  of  taking  a  roomful  of  strange 
children  into  their  hearts  at  once.     Children  you  do  not 


THE   LOVE   OF   CHILDREN. 


71 


love  are  tormenting  creatures.  It  is  not  everybody  who 
can  know  children  well  enough  to  give  them  individual 
love  in  one  year.  The  teacher's  love  is  very  different 
from  that  of  the  mother,  who  concentrates  all  hers,  at 
least  for  the  first  year,  on  a  single  child. 

Then,  though  love  is  a  plant  of  heavenly  origin,  and 
has  the  power  of  expanding  infinitely,  yet  it  is  so  limited 
by  small  human  nature  that  when,  as  the  years  go  by,  it 
has  to  be  divided  among  hundreds  and  even  thousands 
of  pupils,  it  is  not  every  teacher  in  whose  heart  the 
flame  continues  to  glow  with  perfect  purity.  Those  who 
have  taught  many  years  will  tell  you  that  when  they 
have  been  so  happy  as  to  carry  one  class  through  four 
or  five  years'  work,  that  class  has  become  so  dear  to 
them  that  it  is  impossible  to  believe  any  other  could 
ever  have  been  so  worthy  of  love.  This  experience, 
however,  is  becoming  rarer  and  rarer,  as  work  is  more 
and  more  specialized.  Intellectual  training  is  becoming 
more  efficient  in  every  detail,  but  the  personal  relation 
between  teacher  and  pupil  is  disappearing. 

Some  teachers  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  the  daily 
interchange  of  good-will  between  their  scholars  and 
themselves.  Is  that  because  they  live  so  much  on  the 
surface  that  they  do  not  even  know  there  are  depths ; 
or  is  it  because  they  have  the  humble  spirit  which  takes 
thankfully  the  simplest  gifts? 

In  spite  of  all  my  counter- argument,  the  general  ver- 


172  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

diet  is  right,  —  the  teacher's  compensation  is  in  the 
love  between  herself  and  her  scholars,  though  the  love 
is  always  chiefly  on  her  own  side.  The  constant  effort 
to  help  one  younger  and  weaker  than  ourselves  does 
bring  a  high  kind  of  happiness  even  when  we  do  not 
succeed.  And  to  some  teachers  some  success  is  granted. 
Sometimes,  years  after  the  pupil  has  gone  out  into  the 
world,  it  is  given  to  a  teacher  to  know  that  she  has 
helped  to  sweeten  and  ennoble  the  pupil's  life.  Few 
of  us,  whatever  our  calling,  can  hope  to  reach  many  of 
our  fellow-beings ;  but  we  can  reach  a  few,  and  so  find 
inexpressible  comfort. 

Such  success  as  I  am  trying  to  describe  comes  only 
to  those  who  put  a  soul  into  their  daily  work ;  and  even 
then  they  often  seem  to  fail.  Popularity  in  a  teacher 
does  mean  something,  because  children  are  such  severe 
critics  that  they  take  no  virtues  for  granted.  To  win  a 
child  over,  it  is  necessary  to  exhibit  the  real  stuff.  But 
though  the  most  popular  teachers  must  have  some  vir- 
tues, it  by  no  means  follows  that  they  are  more  highly 
endowed  than  others  who  are  very  unpopular.  I  heard 
a  pleasant  little  boy  once  reply  to  a  question  about  his 
teacher :  "  Oh,  no,  I  don't  like  her.  I  don't  suppose 
anybody  could  like  her."  Yet  I  happened  to  know 
that  the  lady  in  question  was  one  of  the  best  and  most 
unselfish  of  women,  and  that  she  gave  her  whole  heart 
to  her  school.     She  only  lacked    the  "Open  Sesame" 


THE   LOVE   OF  CHILDREN.  1 73 

to  the  children's  favour.  She  had  done  all  she  could, 
but  she  was  not  attractive,  —  that  is,  to  them,  for  she 
was  abundantly  so  to  many  other  people. 

But  popularity  and  love  are  widely  different.  In 
schools  where  children  of  intellectual  tastes  predomi- 
nate, most  teachers  get  a  measure  of  good-natured  lik- 
ing for  the  time  being,  and  are  remembered  pleasantly 
enough.  In  girls'  schools,  if  girls  are  of  the  "  gushing  " 
type,  —  a  type  not  much  in  vogue  at  present,  —  there 
is  often  a  good  deal  of  "raving"  about  favourite - 
teachers.  It  is  flattering,  of  course,  and  unless  a 
teacher  is  a  stoic,  indeed,  it  is  apt  to  be  rather  pleasing ; 
but  it  cannot  satisfy  any  deep  need.  In  schools  where 
the  majority  of  the  scholars  are  not  fond  of  study,  it 
must  be  a  very  expert  strategist  who  can  win  even  the 
moderate  favour  which  stands  in  the  public  mind  for  the 
love  which  is  to  be  the  teacher's  compensation. 

But  the  real  compensation  is  twofold.  It  is  always 
even  more  blessed  to  give  love  than  to  receive  it.  And 
no  teacher  with  high  aims  can  fail  to  love  some  of 
the  children  she  spends  her  life  in  trying  to  help  •  and 
such  a  woman  always  does  win  a  friend  or  two  from 
among  her  scholars,  if  she  teaches  many  years.  It  may 
not  seem  much  that  a  woman  who  has  taught  five 
hundred  scholars  should  have  found  one  or  two  who 
will  love  her  all  their  lives;  but  after  all,  there  are 
many  mothers  who  do    not    have    children    thoroughly 


174  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

devoted  to  them  without  any  ties  of  interest.  And 
though  it  is  a  very  unusual  thing  for  the  bond  between 
teacher  and  scholar  to  approach  in  closeness  the  ideal 
relation  of  mother  and  child,  it  is  still  true  that  it  is 
sometimes  more  ideal  than  such  an  actual  relation. 

There  are  no  children  on  whom  an  unmarried  woman 
lavishes  so  much  love  as  on  her  nephews  and  nieces. 
Indeed,  her  zeal  for  their  welfare,  and  her  intense 
desire  to  carry  out  her  theories  in  bringing  them  up, 
often  make  her  an  objectionable  element  in  the  family. 
She  is  so  sure  to  see  all  that  goes  wrong,  and  also  so  posi- 
tive that  if  she  could  manage  all  would  be  well,  that  the 
mortified  father  and  mother  wish  she  would  go  her  way 
and  leave  them  in  peace.  The  tantalizing  quality  in 
the  situation  is  this  :  she  stands  so  near  to  the  child 
that  she  feels  as  if  it  were  almost  her  own,  and  yet 
she  has  absolutely  no  control  over  it.  To  be  so  near 
and  yet  so  far  is  extremely  disturbing. 

What  is  to  be  done  about  it?  I  suspect  this  is  one 
of  the  lessons  of  life  which  will  never  be  so  perfectly 
learned  as  not  to  be  a  means  of  wholesome  discipline 
for  all  concerned. 

Whatever  the  solution  of  the  enigma  may  be,  it  is 
not  to  be  found  in  loving  the  children  less.  A  woman 
may  perhaps  steel  herself  against  such  natural  affection 
by  keeping  aloof  from  the  children,  and  she  may  there- 


THE   LOVE   OF   CHILDREN. 


175 


by  save  herself  some  pangs ;  but  all  of  us  who  try  to 
avoid  pain  find  sooner  or  later  that  the  price  of  happi- 
ness is  the  courage  to  bear  suffering.  We  all  know,  I 
suppose,  that  we  cannot  be  good  women  unless  we 
nourish  every  germ  of  love  planted  in  us ;  but  we  often 
doubt,  what  is  equally  true,  that  we  cannot  otherwise  be 
happy  women. 

We  must,  then,  love  the  children :  that  is  very  easy. 
We  must  also  refrain  from  interfering  in  their  manage- 
ment :  that  is  very  hard.  It  is  seldom  that  parents  and 
aunts  have  exactly  the  same  ideas  about  the  government 
of  children.  Sometimes  the  parents  are  wiser,  and 
sometimes  the  aunts.  Sometimes  the  aunts  certainly 
ought  to  try  to  influence  the  parents ;  but  after  all,  the 
children  have  been  intrusted  to  the  parents  and  not 
to  the  aunts,  and  except  in  the  case  of  actual  crime,  it 
is  right  that  the  parents  should  have  the  direction  of  the 
children.  George  Macdonald  says  that  no  one  should 
interfere  even  with  criminals,  and  gives  thoughtful  rea- 
sons for  his  opinion ;  but  most  of  us  would  feel  that 
going  too  far.  In  families  where  the  standard  of  char- 
acter is  high,  there  is  always  hearty  co-operation  be- 
tween the  parents  and  the  aunts ;  and  this  is  good  for 
the  children  and  delightful  to  the  elders.t  The  mothers 
find  a  relief  from  some  heavy  cares,  which  it  is  a  satis- 
faction for  the  aunts  to  assume.  Still,  there  is  likely  to 
be  a  twinge  now  and  then  when  two  women  have  dif- 


176  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN 

ferent  views  about  the  same  child,  even  if  the  matter 
under  discussion  is  no  graver  than  the  pattern  of  a 
pinafore.  There  cannot  be  a  moment's  question  that 
the  aunt  should  yield  unconditionally  in  all  non- 
essentials. Indeed,  in  minor  matters  it  is  often  bet- 
ter not  even  to  offer  a  suggestion.  Even  where  the 
essentials  of  character  are  at  stake,  how  thoughtfully 
any  suggestion  should  be  made  !  No  aunt  ever  yet 
gave  an  acceptable  hint  to  a  mother  about  her  children, 
if  she  did  not  include  the  mother  as  well  as  the  children 
in  her  love.  And  further,  it  is  hard  to  draw  the  line 
between  essentials  and  non-essentials.  A  woman  born 
to  command  thinks  everything  is  essential.  I  have  heard 
of  a  fine  woman  who  was  exquisitely  neat,  but  whose  sis- 
ter was  careless.  The  careless  sister  married,  and  brought 
up  her  children  after  her  own  fashion.  Of  course,  when 
the  unmarried  sister  visited  at  the  house,  there  was  col- 
lision. The  aunt  was  so  shocked  at  the  slovenly,  un- 
kempt condition  of  the  children  that  she  ordered  them 
all  to  the  bath-room.  The  mother,  whose  feelings  were 
hurt,  objected  to  the  ablutions.  The  aunt  insisted ;  the 
mother  resisted.  The  struggle  ended  in  the  aunt's 
being  forbidden  the  house.  She  comforted  herself  with 
the  reflection  that  at  all  events  an  impression  had  been 
made  upon  the  children.  They  knew  that  somebody 
valued  cleanliness,  if  their  mother  did  not.  The  aunt 
loved  the  children,  and  was  willing  to  be  martyred  in 


THE   LOVE   OF  CHILDREN.  177 

their  cause.  Whether  the  cause  was  important  enough 
to  call  for  that  kind  of  martyrdom  may  be  questioned ; 
but  sometimes  a  cause  does  exist  worthy  of  being  bat- 
tled for.  The  battle  seldom  does  any  real  good,  ex- 
cept to  ease  the  conscience.  That  is  something;  but 
fewer  battles  would  be  fought  if  all  aunts  could  remem- 
ber that  the  children  they  say  they  love  as  their  own 
are  after  all  not  their  own. 

However,  there  is  in  general  much  cheerful  work- 
ing together  of  parents  and  aunts  for  the  best  good 
of  the  children,  and  children  do  love  their  maiden 
aunts  with  a  very  honest  affection ;  so  that  the  woman 
who  does  not  expect  too  much  really  gets  a  great 
deal. 

If  in  an  ideal  world  there  were  as  many  maiden 
ladies  as  in  this,  it  is  clear  that  they  would  have  a  spe- 
cial service  to  render  in  helping  their  married  friends  in 
the  care  of  children.  A  child  is  such  a  precious  thing, 
and  needs  to  be  developed  in  so  many  directions  at 
once,  that  the  best  and  wisest  of  fathers  and  mothers 
are  seldom  adequate  to  the  whole  demand.  The  father 
is  perhaps  a  classical  scholar,  and  the  mother  is  a 
musician;  how  convenient  to  have  a  mathematical 
aunt  who  is  willing  and  happy  to  take  the  child 
through  the  labyrinth  of  numbers  !  Or  the  father  is 
literary,  and  the  mother  is  artistic ;  what  an  advan- 
tage to  have  their  work  supplemented  by  a   scientific 


178  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

aunt  !  Or  the  father  is  upright  to  the  verge  of  stern- 
ness, and  the  mother  is  sweet  to  the  verge  of  weakness ; 
how  refreshing  then  is  a  merry  aunt !  If  the  mother  is 
an  admirable  housekeeper  but  hates  sewing,  what  a 
blessing  is  the  aunt  who  enjoys  her  needle  !  If  the 
mother  wears  herself  out  waiting  upon  the  children,  how 
salutary  it  is  for  them  to  have  an  aunt  who  insists  that 
they  shall  wait  upon  her  ! 

A  charming  woman  once  said  to  me,  "  My  children 
love  their  Aunt  Nancy  [their  father's  sister]  just  as 
much  as  they  love  me.  I  don't  understand  why  I  am 
not  jealous ;  but  that  would  be  impossible."  It  was 
easy  for  other  people  to  understand  the  reason.  In  this 
case  both  the  mother  and  the  aunt  were  thoroughly 
high-minded  women,  and  they  both  loved  the  children 
unselfishly.  Moreover,  they  were  of  different  tempera- 
ments, so  that  they  seldom  wished  to  do  exactly  the 
same  thing;  while,  as  their  principles  were  the  same, 
they  were  working  for  the  same  ends.  And  they  loved 
each  other. 

In  the  ideal  world  neither  parents  nor  aunts  will  be 
too  exacting ;  and  the  child,  as  well  as  its  elders,  will 
be  the  better  and  happier  in  consequence. 

The  refinement  of  suffering  comes  when  the  mother  of 
a  child  dies,  and  the  child  is  intrusted  to  a  maiden  aunt 
for  a  few  years,  only  td  be  taken  from  her  when  the  father 
marries  again.     And  yet  the  love  that  grows  up  between 


THE    LOVE    OF   CHILDREN. 


179 


the  aunt  and  her  charge  is  so  great  a  blessing  as  to  be 
full  compensation  for  the  suffering. 

If  we  have  no  available  nephews  and  nieces,  if  we 
cannot  adopt  a  child,  and  if  we  do  not  feel  called  upon 
to  teach  school,  we  are  in  danger  of  being  shut  out 
altogether  in  the  cold.  This  is  not  necessary,  however. 
There  are  troops  of  children  everywhere,  and  we  must 
be  singularly  unfortunate  if  we  cannot  find  a  means  of 
attaching  some  of  them  to  us.  Those  who  win  a  child 
who  has  no  particular  claim  upon  them,  and  on  whom 
they  have  no  claim,  are  happy.  Such  a  bond  cannot 
be  established  except  between  those  of  kindred  natures, 
and  it  is  very  enduring.  Sometimes  it  is  as  strong  as 
that  between  mother  and  child.  I  think  such  love  is 
probably  within  reach  of  all ;  but  as  it  does  not  come 
to  us  in  the  daily  routine,  only  those  of  large  hearts, 
hospitably  open  to  all  strangers,  are  likely  to  wel- 
come the  fledgling  who  will  finally  be  their  chief 
comfort. 

Every  woman  needs  the  love  of  a  child ;  every 
woman  who  wishes  for  it  can  probably  have  it.  But 
no  unmarried  woman  will  ever  receive  this  gift  who 
does  not  actively  seek  for  it.  And  the  only  way  to 
seek  for  it  is  to  give  an  overflowing  measure  of  love, 
hoping  for  nothing  again.  The  return  usually  comes 
from  a  quarter  whence  we  least  expected  it. 


180  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

There  are  women  who  say  lightly  that  they  do  not  care 
for  children,  that  they  can  do  very  well  without  them. 
It  seems  almost  like  a  lowering  of  standards  to  make 
a  plea  for  any  kind  of  love  which  does  not  begin  and 
end  in  the  nature  of  love  itself.  Still,  observing  women 
who  have  had  the  care  of  children,  any  one  will  see  how 
their  characters  have  been  thereby  developed.  There  is 
nothing  which  holds  us  to  our  best  so  firmly  as  the 
necessity  of  holding  a  child  to  its  best.  For  instance, 
we  keep  back  a  censorious  word  in  the  presence  of  a 
child,  when  otherwise  we  could  not  control  our  temper. 
In  youth  we  all  permit  ourselves  many  whims  and  vaga- 
ries, and  often  we  do  not  relinquish  these  till  we  are 
taught  their  real  nature  by  the  child  we  are  trying  to 
train  aright.  Certain  arch  ways  which  are  engaging  in 
a  young  girl  are  silly  in  a  woman ;  but  those  of  us  who 
cannot  measure  ourselves  by  comparison  with  children 
often  forget  where  we  are  in  life,  and  become  a  target 
for  scoffers.  This  is  a  very  different  thing  from  pre- 
serving the  heart  of  a  girl  to  old  age.  Children  help 
us  here,  too,  by  keeping  us  alive  to  the  interests  of 
youth,  though  we  have  laid  aside  its  follies. 

Many  of  the  faults  of  youth  are  worse  than  silliness. 
A  middle-aged  woman,  who  in  her  teens  had  been  a 
daring  flirt,  was  once  led  to  describe  some  of  her 
escapades  to  a  friend.  She  could  not  avoid  reverting 
to  her  old  tone  of  triumph  in  the  narration ;  so  that  the 


THE   LOVE   OF  CHILDREN.  181 

friend  thought  for  a  moment  that  she  justified  herself 
for  some  very  doubtful  deeds,  and  accordingly  asked 
the  question :  "  Should  you  be  willing  to  have  your 
Emily  do  a  thing  like  that?"  The  change  in  the  face 
of  the  mother  was  almost  ludicrous.  "  My  Emily  ! " 
If  she  had  been  a  Romanist,  she  would  have  crossed 
herself  with  horror.  It  was  quite  clear  that  in  bringing 
up  her  Emily  she  had  allowed  no  such  latitude  of 
principles.  Her  middle-aged  ideas  of  right  were  really 
entirely  different  from  those  she  had  held  as  a  girl,  but 
in  reviving  old  stories  she  had  for  a  moment  forgotten 
them.  If  she  had  had  no  daughter  whose  simplicity 
and  innocence  it  was  a  delight  to  guard,  it  might  have 
been  a  hard  task  for  her  to  learn  how  entirely  wrong 
her  old  theories  had  been.  She  would  probably  have 
preached  them,  and  perhaps  practised  them,  for  many 
a  year  which  had  now  been  given  to  the  careful, 
thoughtful   training   of  her   daughter. 

We  all  take  a  thousand  responsibilities  for  ourselves 
which  we  dare  not  take  for  another.  I  know  a  woman 
so  reckless  in  her  speculations  on  philosophy,  that  be- 
fore her  marriage  it  seemed  as  if  she  would  not  leave 
one  stone  in  the  universe  upon  another.  But  when 
her  children  began  to  ask  her  questions,  she  could  not 
give  them  such  answers  as  she  had  palmed  off  upon 
herself.  She  was  no  less  truthful  and  no  less  courageous 
than  she  had  always  been ;   but  she  was  now  forced  to 


1 82  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

look  for  depths  which  she  had  before  ignored,  and  she 
found  that  the  "  mighty  maze  "  was  "  not  without  a 
plan." 

Every  child  who  loves  and  trusts  us  makes  us 
ashamed  of  our  unworthiness,  and  calls  upon  us  for 
our  best ;  and  through  the  love  we  give  to  children, 
we  learn  to  forget  ourselves. 


FRIENDS.  183 


XII. 

FRIENDS. 

"\\  7" HAT  a  thing  friendship  is  !    World  without  end," 
*  *        says  Browning. 

Theoretically  the  tie  of  friendship  is  not  so  close  as 
the  love  between  man  and  woman,  but  practically  it  is 
often  closer  and  more  satisfying,  It  always  has  the  ideal 
charm  which  belongs  to  freedom.  We  are  not  bound 
to  our  friend  either  legally  or  by  interest.  The  relation 
lasts  only  while  it  is  vital.  But  most  of  us  are  so  happy 
as  to  have  two  or  three  friends  who  stand  to  us  for  so 
much  that  we  cannot  comprehend  any  separation  from 
them  which  would  not  involve  a  loss  of  our  identity. 
The  unmarried  have  most  time  and  strength  to  give  to 
friendship,  and  they  are  most  in  need  of  friends.  To 
know  that  one  contemporary  —  not  simply  an  old  per- 
son or  a  child  —  approves  us,  gives  a  different  air  to  all 
we  do.  We  act  boldly  instead  of  timidly,  and  are  not 
only  happier  in  consequence,  but  are  often  thus  saved 
from  being  ridiculous.  Two  men  or  two  women  who 
otherwise  stand  alone  in  the  world,  may  find  in  each 
other  the  opportunity  to  pour  out  that  warm  love  which 


1 84  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

nourishes  life  and  happiness  more  than  anything  else  we 
know.  Such  a  perfect  relation  is  not  often  possible 
when  either  friend  is  married.  The  one  who  is  single 
must  have  lonely  hours. 

The  ladies  of  Llangollen  furnish  the  most  classical  ex- 
ample of  the  friendship  of  women.  Let  me  quote  a  part 
of  Madame  de  Genlis's  description  of  them.  "  Lady 
Eleanor  Butler  "  was  "  an  orphan  'from  the  cradle,  and 
a  rich,  amiable,  and  lovely  heiress,"  whose  "  hand  was 
sought  by  persons  of  the  best  families  in  Ireland  ;  but 
she  very  early  announced  her  repugnance  to  marriage. 
This  taste  for  independence,  which  she  never  concealed, 
was  in  no  respect  injurious  to  her  reputation ;  her  be- 
haviour was  always  marked  by  perfect  propriety ;  no 
woman  was  ever  more  remarkable  for  mildness,  modesty, 
and  all  the  virtues  that  embellish  her  sex.  From  earliest 
infancy  she  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Miss  Ponsonby ; 
by  a  singular  coincidence  of  events,  which  struck  their 
imaginations,  they  were  both  born  at  Dublin,  in  the  same 
year  and  on  the  same  day,  and  they  became  orphans  at 
the  same  period.  It  was  easy  for  them  to  fancy  from 
this  that  heaven  had  created  them  for  each  other ;  that 
it  had  destined  them  to  consecrate  their  mutual  exist- 
ence to  each  other,  and  to  perform  together  the  voyage 
of  life.  ...  At  seventeen  they  mutually  promised  to 
preserve  their  liberty,  and  never  to  part  from  each  other." 
The  query  of   an  American  woman  would  be  whether 


FRIENDS.  185 

such  a  "promised"  liberty  gave  them  any  more  free- 
dom than  a  marriage.  Be  that  as  it  may,  they  made  a 
secret  journey  to  a  beautiful  part  of  Wales,  and  at 
"  Llangollen"  they  found,  "on  the  summit  of  a  moun- 
tain, a  little  isolated  cottage,  of  which  the  situation 
seemed  to  them  delicious."  Their  guardians  promptly 
brought  them  back  to  Dublin,  but  at  twenty-one  they 
returned  to  Llangollen,  There  they  made  an  enchanting 
home,  where  they  had  lived  seven  years  when  Madame 
de  Genlis  visited  them.  She  says  :  "  I  saw  nothing  in 
them  of  that  vanity  which  is  gratified  by  awakening  the 
astonishment  of  others.  They  loved  each  other,  and  lived 
in  that  spot  with  so  much  simplicity  that  wonder  soon 
subsided  into  a  touching  interest.  Everything  was  gen- 
uine and  natural  in  their  manners  and  conversation  ;  and 
a  singular  thing  is  that  though  they  had  lived  so  many 
years  in  perfect  retirement,  they  spoke  French  with  as 
much  ease  as  purity.  I  was  very  much  struck  with  the 
dissimilarity  of  disposition  between  them.  Lady  Eleanor 
had  a  charming  face,  bright  with  freshness  and  health  ; 
everything  about  her  announced  vivacity,  gayety,  and 
frankness.  Miss  Ponsonby's  face  was  pale,  and  full  of  a 
melancholy  expression.  .  .  .  Both  had  the  noblest  man- 
ners and  the  most  cultivated  minds.  An  excellent 
library,  composed  of  the  best  English,  French,  and 
Italian  authors,  was  to  them  an  inexhaustible  source  of 
amusement  and   of   various  and   solid   occupation ;  for 


1 86  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

reading  is  only  profitable  when  you  have  leisure  to  recur 
again  to  what  you  have  read.     The  interior  of  the  house 
was  remarkable   for  the   beauty   of  its   proportions,  the 
convenient  distribution   of   its  apartments,  the  elegance 
of  the  ornaments   and   the   furniture,  and  the  beautiful 
views  which  were  visible  from   all  the  windows."     Miss 
Ponsonby  was  an  artist,  Lady  Eleanor  a  musician,  while 
both  filled  the  house  with  exquisite  embroidery.     They 
had  a  beautiful  flower-garden,  and  their  only  fence  was  a 
hedge  of  roses,     An  excellent  carriage-way  led  up  the 
mountain  to  their  home.    Giant  fir-trees  grew  on  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  but  around  the  house  —  which  replaced 
the  original  cottage  —  were  planted  fruit-trees,  especially 
wonderful  cherry-trees.     "  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  "  they 
had  "  a  meadow  for  their  flocks,  a  beautiful  farm-house, 
and  a  kitchen-garden."   Though  they  had  not  slept  out  of 
the  house   for  seven  years,   they  were  said   to  be  "  far 
from  reserved  ;  they  frequently  paid  visits   at  the  neigh- 
bouring gentlemen's  houses,  and  received  with  equal  po- 
liteness and  kindness  travellers  who  were  either  coming 
from  or  going  to  Ireland,  and  who  were  recommended 
to  their  attention  by  their  old  friends." 

In  spite  of  this  agreeable  picture,  Madame  de  Genlis 
looked  upon  them  as  "  the  imprudent  victims  of  the 
most  dangerous  enthusiasm  and  sensibility."  She  says, 
with  her  usual  good  sense  :  "  In  the  natural  state  of 
society,  the  affections  which  a  family  calls  forth  form  in 


FRIENDS.  187 

the  course  of  our  lives  a  necessary  succession  of  conso- 
lations j  a  spouse  consoles  us  for  the  loss  of  a  mother ; 
the  hands  of  our  children  are  destined  to  dry  up  other 
tears ;  a  brother  partakes  our  domestic  griefs ;  and  a 
faithful  friend  compensates  us  for  the  loss  of  a  false  one. 
Let  us  then  cultivate  all  our  ties  j  let  us  not,  in  the 
thorny  career  over  which  we  have  to  pass,  reject  any  of 
our  natural  supports  j  if  one  of  them  fails,  another  will 
be  ready  to  sustain  our  declining  steps.  .  .  .  Nuns  alone 
can  dispense  with  the  ties  of  family,  they  are  altogether 
devoted  to  God  ;  besides,  they  have  companions  of  their 
own  age." 

This  prudent,  politic  balancing  of  friend  with  friend, 
though  sensible,  does  not  belong  to  the  highest  type 
of  woman.  Listen  to  what  Lucy  Smith  says  after  the 
perfect  relation  between  herself  and  her  husband  had 
been  interrupted  by  death  :  "  I  think  the  absolute  Love 
exacts,  at  one  time  or  other,  suffering,  —  only  less  than 
itself,  but  incommunicable  in  intensity.  .  .  .  Perhaps  that 
helps  best  of  all,  —  that  tearing  instead.  My  husband 
once  said  to  me,  '  What  should  I  do  without  you  ?  I 
could  not  live  cut  in  half.'  Well,  I  have  borne  it  in 
his  place.  One  or  other  must  .  .  .  After  all,  sorrow  is  a 
form  of  love.  .  .  .  Sorrow  should  have  its  perfect  work. 
And  I  cannot  grudge  the  darkened  years  in  Tennyson's 
or  any  other's  life." 

Friendship  does  not  often  reach  such  a  height  as  this ; 


1 88  THE  UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

but  the  distinguishing  mark  which  separates  a  friend 
from  an  acquaintance  is  that  in  the  case  of  a  friend  we 
are  glad  to  bear  the  suffering  which  is  involved  in  every 
close  relation  for  the  sake  of  the  sweetness  of  the 
relation. 

Furthermore,  to  the  Protestant  devotion  to  God  does 
not  mean  a  cloistered  life ;  and  whether  the  ladies  of 
Llangollen  risked  too  much  by  staking  all  on  a  single 
friend,  or  whether  they  shirked  too  many  of  the  duties 
of  ordinary  life,  depended  on  their  inner  purpose,  which 
Madame  de  Genlis  could  not  see.  If  they  owned  alle- 
giance to  God,  and  chose  their  life  because  it  seemed  the 
largest  and  best  open  to  them,  they  were  right ;  and  even 
the  inevitable  loneliness  of  the  latest  survivor  would  not 
be  without  comfort.  But  if  their  friendship  was  simply 
imaginative  and  founded  on  nothing  higher  than  itself, 
it  was  just  as  good  and  just  as  bad  as  the  majority  of 
marriages  between  amiable  people  without  high  aims. 

Nevertheless,  exclusiveness  does  not  appear  to  im- 
prove any  relation  but  marriage.  Though  a  mere  breath 
of  jealousy  sullies  the  purity  of  friendship,  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  strong  love  we  give  to  one  good  man 
or  woman  seems  to  expand  the  heart  so  that  we  have 
more  love  to  give  to  every  other  good  man  or  woman. 
I  do  not  mean,  however,  that  it  can  be  possible  to  love 
one  friend  too  much.  A  quiet,  middle-aged  teacher  in 
Massachusetts  unexpectedly  proposed  one  day  to  resign 


FRIENDS.  189 

her  position.  The  astonished  and  disturbed  principal 
of  the  school  remonstrated,  and  asked  the  reason.  "  I 
have  a  friend  dying  in  California,"  she  said.  Suppose 
she  left  her  place,  and  spent  her  small  savings  in  the 
long  journey  and  in  taking  care  of  her  friend.  Suppose 
in  the  end  she  was  left  alone,  penniless  and  without  a 
situation.  What  was  that  to  her?  She  loved  her  friend 
more  than  she  loved  ease.  Her  life  would  always  be 
harder  in  consequence  of  her  deed,  and  yet  there  would 
be  a  light  upon  it  which  never  shines  for  those  who  thinK 
of  comfort.  Of  course  it  would  have  been  different  if 
she  must  have  left  others  to  suffer  when  she  hurried 
away  to  her  friend. 

No  one  can  admit  many  people  to  the  inner  circle  of 
friendship  ;  but  this  is  not  because  there  may  not  be 
love  enough  for  all.  It  is  simply  because  we  are  bound 
by  time  and  space.  Friends  and  acquaintances  are 
widely  different,  though  some  persons  never  seem  to  find 
that  out.  A  married  woman,  with  her  own  family  to 
engross  her  love,  may  find  exhilaration  and  advantage  in 
a  host  of  mere  acquaintances ;  she  exchanges  calls  with 
them,  likes  to  see  their  housekeeping  arrangements,  or 
look  at  their  new  pictures,  chats  a  little  with  them  over 
books  or  music,  and  feels  a  gentle  kindliness  towards 
them.  All  this  is  very  pleasant,  but  the  friendships  of 
a  single  woman  must  go  deeper  than  this  if  they  are  to 
rescue  her  from  either  loneliness  or  superficiality. 


190  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

A  friend  is  one  to  whom  we  can  frankly  express  our 
deepest  thoughts  without  fear  of  being  misunderstood. 
To  our  dearest  friends  we  also  express  our  feelings  some- 
times. We  do  not  always  confide  our  circumstances 
even  to  the  dearest.  The  nature  of  the  circumstances 
decides  that  question.  As  it  is  not  wholesome  for  us  to 
talk  or  even  think  much  about  our  feelings,  we  need  not 
try  to  enlarge  the  circle  of  friends  to  whom  it  is  natural 
to  talk  about  them.  The  two  or  three  to  whom  we  must 
speak  are  a  gift  to  us.  Them  "  we  do  not  seek,  but 
find." 

But  it  is  a  great  blessing  when  in  place  of  mere  ac- 
quaintances we  have  friends  to  whom  we  can  freely  speak 
our  thoughts.  It  would  certainly  be  selfish  to  shut  our- 
selves in  and  refuse  to  make  any  new  acquaintances ;  but 
as  the  number  grows  larger  and  larger,  how  are  we  to 
have  time  to  go  below  the  surface  with  any  one  ?  The 
only  way  I  know  of  is  to  live  a  thoughtful  life,  and  to 
be  generous  enough  to  give  our  real  thought  to  every 
stranger  who  seems  willing  to  receive  it.  Then  ten  min- 
utes' conversation  may  bring  us  a  friend,  though  we  never 
meet  the  same  individual  again. 

And  why  should  we  go  out  of  our  way  to  make  mere 
acquaintances  who  do  not  care  for  the  best  we  have  to 
give?  There  is  a  reason,  —  conventionality  decrees  it. 
If  we  obeyed  conventional  dicta  when  disobedience  was 
likely   to   hurt   somebody's   feelings,  and   ignored   them 


FRIENDS.  191 

when  the  only  advantage  of  obedience  would  be  the 
giving  ourselves  a  certain  station  in  the  world,  the  true 
balance  would  no  doubt  be  preserved. 

I  know  a  woman  who  never  makes  a  conventional 
call  whose  life  is  a  perfect  illustration  of  out-reaching 
love.  She  is  busy  in  an  office  from  daylight  till  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  every  day  but  Sunday ;  and  as 
she  is  not  strong,  her  evenings  must  be  short.  If  she 
were  bound  by  conventionalities,  she  would  see  no  one. 
As  it  is,  she  makes  the  most  of  her  opportunities.  If 
she  has  a  leisure  hour,  and  knows  that  a  friend  is  within 
reach,  she  goes  to  see  her,  and  she  has  such  a  loving 
heart  that  she  finds  a  leisure  hour  oftener  than  you 
would  think  possible.  If  she  merely  meets  you  on  the 
street,  there  is  a  cordiality  in  her  greeting  which  puts 
you  at  once  beyond  the  limits  of  formality,  and  you 
come  near  to  her  in  exchanging  half-a-dozen  sentences. 
She  establishes  human  relations  with  every  one  who 
comes  into  the  office,  and  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a 
society  woman  in  the  city  who  has  so  large  a  circle  of 
friends,  or  who  knows  the  ladies  in  her  circle  so  well. 
In  driving  about  the  city,  leaving  a  card  here  and  say- 
ing a  few  words  about  the  weather  or  the  last  party, 
how  is  it  possible  to  know  one's  acquaintances?  But 
this  woman,  busy  at  her  desk  all  day,  talks  first  with  a 
teacher  who  is  ordering  books  for  her  class,  then  with 
a  proof-reader  who  needs  help  in  a  difficulty,  then  with 


192  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

a  struggling  artist  overwhelmed  with  disappointment 
because  her  sketches  have  been  refused.  She  sees  how 
these  other  women  bear  themselves  when  at  work  or  in 
trouble,  and  so  she  knows  them,  and  has  the  chance 
to  help  them,  —  a  chance  she  never  foregoes.  She  takes 
a  hearty  interest  in  helping  the  teacher  select  her  books, 
not  only  for  love  of  the  teacher  but  for  love  of  the 
scholars  she  has  never  seen ;  she  patiently  finds  the 
references  the  proof-reader  needs  j  she  has  been  known 
to  get  up  long  before  daybreak  and  carry  an  inland 
visitor  off  to  the  nearest  beach  to  see  the  sun  rise  out 
of  the  ocean. 

It  is,  I  know,  a  dangerous  thing  for  a  young  unmar- 
ried woman  to  resist  conventions ;  yet  some  resistance 
seems  to  be  necessary  for  a  woman  without  husband  or 
children  who  would  have  any  outlet  at  all  for  a  full 
heart. 

An  intellectual  friendship  is  always  possible  between 
two  high-minded  people ;  but  the  close  friendship  of 
the  feelings  is  not  so  easily  formed  when  one  friend  is 
married.  Yet  the  unmarried  sorely  need  married 
friends  to  save  them  from  narrowness.  This  is  espe- 
cially true  of  women ;  for  as  years  go  by  they  are  more 
and  more  shut  out  of  general  society,  and  if  they  live 
only  with  other  single  women,  it  is  impossible  for  them 
to  have  any  large  outlook  on  life.  Their  dearest  friend 
will  usually  be  another  single  woman ;  but  it  is  greatly  to 


FRIENDS.  193 

be  hoped  that  some  married  woman  will  be  very  near 
to  every  one  of  them. 

A  friend  assures  me  that  a  very  common  type  of  the 
spinster  is  she  who  makes  a  home  with  another  woman, 
and  thanks  fate  loudly  that  there  are  no  men  about. 
It  has  not  been  my  experience  to  know  many  such  self- 
sufficing  women.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  a  woman 
may  not  combine  all  the  virtues  in  her  single  self. 
Virtue  knows  no  boundary  lines,  and  the  most  womanly 
woman  must  not  scorn  to  cultivate  the  good  qualities 
of  a  manly  man.  I  rejoice  to  believe  that  many  women 
are  courageous  as  well  as  modest,  and  strong  as  well  as 
gentle.  Nevertheless,  as  most  of  us  do  not  reach  the 
perfection  we  aspire  to,  we  usually  feel  the  need  of  sup- 
plementing our  own  graces  with  those  of  another  strain. 
The  women  I  know  are  generally  grateful  for  the  friend- 
ship of  good  men,  and  often  regret  that  they  have  so 
seldom  the  tonic  of  such  society.  They  do  not  regard 
the  fact  that  they  are  not  married  as  a  special  blessing. 
As  to  supposing  that  women  are  a  race  superior  to  men, 
they  have  never  dreamed  of  that,  though  they  would 
certainly  be  affronted  at  any  suggestion  that  they  are 
inferior. 

Every  woman  has  need  of  the  friendship  of  men. 
Some  women  have  such  power  to  meet  men  frankly 
while  still  retaining  the  delicate  reserve  which  must 
always  bound  such  a   relation,  that  they  have  as  many 

13 


194  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

real  friends  among  men  as  women.  I  think  of  a  very 
beautiful  woman,  unmarried,  and  no  longer  young,  who 
has  this  power.  She  lives  on  so  high  a  plane  all  the 
time  that  it  is  natural  for  her  to  lift  everybody  she  meets 
to  the  same  ground.  In  a  drawing-room  full  of  fashion- 
able people,  her  discerning  eyes  will  see  a  few  guests 
who  care  for  something  beyond  trivialities.  By  the 
time  she  has  met  a  man  of  this  stamp  a  few  times  at 
parties,  the  two  have  become  friends.  She  nourishes 
every  germ  of  good  in  the  weakest  man  she  sees,  and 
he,  in  his  turn,  gives  her  the  best  he  has  to  give.  She 
often  sees  a  very  dark  side  of  life  in  consequence  of  her 
faculty ;  but  she  knows  men,  and  not  only  helps  them 
all  by  raising  their  standard  of  womanhood,  but  is  her- 
self helped  by  them,  for  they  teach  her  to  look  at  life 
honestly  without  sentimental  illusions.  Very  often,  of 
course,  somebody  falls  in  love  with  her.  She  does  not 
wish  for  this ;  but  she  meets  the  question  so  truthfully 
and  with  such  dignity  that  the  most  deeply  disappointed 
lover  feels  that  his  love  has  ennobled  him. 

Her  power  is  a  dangerous  one,  because  it  is  singu- 
larly compounded  of  moral  influence  and  the  charm  of 
beauty.  A  plain  woman  could  not  achieve  the  same 
results ;  while  a  mere  beauty  would  use  her  fascination 
simply  in  flirting.  A  woman  who  knows  herself  to  be 
attractive  ought  to  be  very  sure  that  she  wishes  for 
friends  and    not    for  victims   before  she   allows    herself 


FRIENDS.  195 

any  freedom  whatever  with  men.  If  she  is  aware  that 
she  has  not  the  courage  to  repel  decidedly  any  undue 
advances  from  her  friend,  or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  she 
knows  she  would  resent  any  sincere  word  of  criticism 
from  him,  she  would  do  better  to  avoid  him  altogether. 
The  flirtation  of  a  girl  of  sixteen,  bubbling  over  with 
fun,  may  be  looked  upon  leniently  as  a  frolic ;  but  a 
woman's  flirtation  is  degrading. 

The  frankness  necessary  to  a  friendship  between  man 
and  woman  is  endangered  by  the  possibility  that  one 
of  the  friends  will  fail  in  love  with  the  other,  while  this 
love  will  not  be  reciprocated.  As  long  as  both  are 
single,  no  great  harm  will  be  done,  provided  both  are 
honest,  and  do  not  try  to  win  more  regard  than  they 
give.  No  worthy  life  was  ever  really  blighted  by  a 
worthy  love,  even  when  the  love  was  unreturned.  The 
suffering  may  be  very  great ;  but  the  pruning-knife  does 
not  destroy  the  vine  :  it  rather  prepares  it  to  bring 
forth  fruit. 

It  would  certainly  not  be  well  that  single  men  and 
women  should  deny  themselves  the  pleasure  and  stimu- 
lus of  a  hearty  friendship  because  of  this  contingency. 
It  is  rather  a  remote  one,  after  all.  Men  and  women 
of  high  aims  do  not,  as  a  rule,  go  about  the  world  fall- 
ing in  love  with  every  agreeable  companion  they  meet. 
Novelists  often  so  misrepresent  the  facts  as  to  make 
all  moderately  young  single  women  deplorably  and  un- 


196  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

necessarily  over-conscious.  An  unmarried  man  and  an 
unmarried  woman  may  often  be  the  best  of  friends 
without  the  slightest  wish  on  either  side  to  be  anything 
more  ;  and  as  long  as  neither  has  any  nearer  claim,  there 
is  nothing  to  be  said  against  such  a  friendship.  The 
moment  it  ceases  to  be  entirely  frank,  however,  there  is 
danger  that  it  will  afford  some  foundation  for  the  com- 
monplace innuendoes  of  silly  people. 

Unfortunately,  most  single  women  past  the  age  of 
thirty  have  not  many  opportunities  to  form  friendships 
with  men.  General  society  has  little  place  for  such 
women,  and  it  is  usually  most  feasible  for  them  to  live 
with  women  only.  Sometimes,  however,  it  is  best  for 
them  to  be  in  the  family  of  a  married  friend  or  relative ; 
and  this  introduces  us  to  the  vast  and  irksome  subject 
of  the  "deceased  wife's  sister,"  which  cannot,  I  fear,  be 
omitted  from  a  volume  like  the  present. 

To  doubt  that  a  single  woman  and  a  married  man 
can  be  the  most  excellent  friends  would  be  absurd  and 
narrow ;  yet  this  is  what  the  English  law  virtually  says 
in  forbidding  a  man  to  marry  his  deceased  wife's  sister. 
It  seems  to  say  —  a  married  man  cannot  see  much  of  any 
attractive  unmarried  woman  without  being  in  danger  of 
fancying  her  more  than  his  wife ;  so  let  us  give  the  hus- 
band and  his  sister-in-law  fair  warning  that  under  no  cir- 
cumstances will  they  be  allowed  to  marry.     The  derision 


FRIENDS.  I97 

with  which  this  law  is  always  mentioned  in  America 
goes  to  show,  I  think,  that  the  standard  of  friendship  is 
higher  here  than  in  England.  Nevertheless,  it  is  very 
true  that  the  friendship  of  a  married  man  and  an  un- 
married woman  has  peculiar  difficulties,  and  that  unless 
there  is  a  still  stronger  bond  between  the  wife  and  the 
unmarried  woman,  it  is  unwise  for  the  latter  to  be  a 
member  of  the  household.  Marriages  are  so  far  from 
being  ideal  that  few  families  escape  some  jars,  and 
it  is  not  often  that  the  ruffled  waters  are  made  more 
peaceful  by  the  presence  of  any  third  person  who 
may,  however  silently,  take  part  against  either  the  hus- 
band or  the  wife.  If  the  third  person  is  a  woman,  and 
if  she  sides  with  the  husband,  no  judicious  manage- 
ment can  prevent  some  harm  being  done.  Even  if  she 
agrees  with  the  wife,  her  partisanship  widens  the  breach. 
Experience  shows  pretty  clearly  that  young  married 
people  at  least  should  try  their  experiments  without 
any  spectators.  When  they  have  fully  adjusted  them- 
selves to  each  other's  peculiarities,  their  seclusion  is 
less  vital. 

But  circumstances  rather  than  theories  usually  decide 
where  the  home  shall  be,  and  these  decree  that  a  great 
many  pretty  and  pleasant  young  women  shall  be  placed 
in  positions  which  bring  them  into  very  close  relations 
with  their  sisters'  husbands  and  other  married  men. 

This  is  the  more  unfortunate  because  one  of  the  com- 


198  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

monest  of  tragedies  is  that  two  sisters  or  two  dear 
friends  fall  in  love  with  the  same  man.  No  one  is  in 
the  least  to  blame  for  this,  perhaps.  The  two  sisters  or 
friends  have  the  same  tastes  and  habits.  They  are 
equally  attractive  to  most  people.  Perhaps  the  lover  of 
one  might,  under  a  little  different  circumstances,  have 
become  the  lover  of  the  other.  But  he  makes  his 
choice,  and  nobody  except  the  girl  who  has  not  been 
chosen  sees  why  she  should  not  live  with  her  married 
sister  or  friend.  Her  position  is  a  painful  one.  Such 
a  girl  ought  not  to  subject  herself  to  the  inevitable 
strain  of  witnessing  the  daily  life  of  her  friends.  Even 
if  she  could  bear  it  without  envy,  there  is  a  very  com- 
mon contingency  to  be  avoided.  The  sister  or  friend 
who  is  chosen  is  frequently  not  the  one  who  will  wear 
best.  If  the  two  are  constantly  contrasted  in  the  home 
life,  there  may  come  a  fatal  day  when  the  husband  sees 
he  has  made  a  mistake,  and  then  something  more  than 
heroism  may  be  needed  to  enable  the  unmarried  girl  to 
conceal  her  own  feelings.  But  even  when  the  single 
woman  has  no  special  interest  in  her  friend's  husband  at 
the  outset,  the  position  is  dangerous,  especially  if  there 
is  much  sympathy  between  the  man  and  woman,  because 
of  the  real  need  all  women  have  of  the  friendship  of 
men.  Strange  to  say,  the  greatest  danger  is  to  a  woman 
between  thirty  and  thirty-five.  A  very  young  woman  is 
not  so   susceptible  to  the   charm   of  friendship  as   she 


FRIENDS.  199 

will  be  later ;  and  as  she  usually  expects  to  be  married 
sometime,  she  does  not  often  concern  herself  much  with 
the  attractions  of  a  married  man.  Moreover,  she  is 
very  likely  to  have  in  her  train  a  number  of  bachelor 
admirers  who  are  to  her  much  more  interesting.  If 
she  lives  with  a  married  sister  whom  she  loves,  she  will 
probably  be  severely  critical  of  all  the  short-comings  of 
her  sister's  husband.  But  when  the  romance  of  youth 
is  over,  when  a  woman  is  no  longer  enthusiastically 
welcomed  in  young  society,  when  the  conviction  that 
she  will  never  marry  has  ripened,  when  the  things  of 
the  mind  begin  to  have  a  preponderating  interest  to 
her  so  that  she  feels  the  need  of  intellectual  com- 
panionship, then  daily  association  with  a  man  of  kin- 
dred tastes  sometimes  leads  to  a  friendship  which  ends 
by  her  finding  to  her  consternation  that  she  has  fallen 
in  love  where  she  least  expected  it.  Just  as  often  the 
same  catastrophe  occurs  on  the  side  of  the  man,  espe- 
cially if  he  married  early  some  one  whose  chief  attrac- 
tion was  a  pretty  face  which  has  now  begun  to  fade. 
The  line  between  a  perfectly  innocent  and  natural 
friendship  and  another  which,  while  equally  natural,  is 
altogether  wrong,  is  so  hard  to  draw  that  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  the  two  are  so  often  confused.  But  the 
woman  who  has  owned  to  herself  that  she  cares  for  a 
man  on  whom  another  woman  has  claims,  ought  not  to 
deceive  herself  by  supposing  that  she  can  always  pre- 


200  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

serve  a  noble  attitude  towards  both,  if  she  continues  to 
be  much  in  their  family  even  as  a  visitor ;  it  may  be 
very  hard  to  alter  her  life  and  go  away  from  them,  but 
it  can  probably  be  done,  and  it  ought  to  be  done. 

In  general,  however,  a  woman  would  not  make  such 
an  admission  even  to  herself.  She  would  blush  to  own 
that  her  friendship  had  in  it  any  element  against  which 
she  must  be  on  her  guard.  Some  women  can  be  abso- 
lutely sure  of  themselves,  and  they  would  be  ashamed  to 
suspect  their  friend  of  less  absolute  self-control ;  and 
yet  such  a  friendship  might  be  disastrous. 

There  are  two  tests  which  a  woman  may  easily  apply 
to  her  conduct.  How  does  the  wife  feel  about  this 
Platonic  friendship?  The  wife  may  be  altogether  un- 
reasonable ;  she  may  be  a  silly,  jealous  woman,  incapa- 
ble of  appreciating  any  worthy  friendship  ;  but  even  then, 
no  other  woman  can  be  doing  right  in  continuing  a 
course  of  action  which  disturbs  the  wife.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  wife  may  be  a  simple  sincere  person,  who  never 
thinks  evil  of  any  one.  Then  the  woman  who  is  in 
doubt  should  ask  how  she  herself  would  feel  in  the 
wife's  place  if  she  knew  exactly  what  she  now  knows  of 
the  feeling  between  herself  and  the  husband.  It  may 
be  that  the  two  have  never  spoken  one  word  together 
which  the  wife  has  not  heard.  It  may  be  that  they  have 
securely  hidden  their  feelings  from  each  other,  and  yet 
one  of  them  may  know  that  there  is  something  in  his  or 


FRIENDS.  201 

her  feeling  which  the  wife  would  find  it  hard  to  bear  if 
she  knew  it  too. 

The  woman  who  can  say  honestly  that  if  she  were 
married,  she  could  be  glad  that  her  husband  should  have 
just  such  a  friend  as  she  is  to  her  friend's  husband,  and 
who  also  sincerely  believes  that  the  wife  is  entirely  satis- 
fied with  the  friendship,  may  feel  that  she  has  endured 
all  necessary  tests.  But  many  cherished  friendships 
would  fall  to  the  ground  before  such  tests.  In  cases 
where  this  was  the  result  of  the  wife's  exacting  temper, 
it  would  be  cruelly  hard ;  but  in  point  of  fact,  it  usually 
is  necessary  whenever  an  unmarried  woman  does  not  care 
as  much  for  the  wife  as  for  the  husband.  The  husband 
may  be  a  very  dear  friend  as  long  as  the  wife  is  still 
dearer.  This  is  a  hard  condition.  We  see  a  great  many 
women  every  day  whom  we  like  better  than  we  do  their 
husbands,  and  it  is  perfectly  natural  that  we  should  see 
a  great  many  men  whom  we  like  better  than  we  do  their 
wives;  but  in  the  latter  case  we. are  not  permitted  to 
carry  the  acquaintance  very  far. 

So  the  list  of  a  single  woman's  friends  is  short- 
ened. She  cannot  always  even  have  all  she  seems  to 
need.  But  aside  from  their  own  relatives,  women  are 
often  so  placed  that  they  cannot  have  many  friends 
among  men.  It  is  a  great  advantage  when  a  woman 
can  work  with  some  man  for  an  object  of  common  in- 
terest.    The  relation  of  employer  and  employed  is  not 


202  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

very  satisfactory,  because  there  is  so  little  freedom,  which 
is  one  of  the  essentials  of  friendship,  on  the  part  of  the 
employed.  The  type-writer  in  a  gentleman's  office  may 
work  with  him  all  day,  and  yet  get  no  benefit  from  the 
association.  In  less  mechanical  work,  however,  the  dis- 
tinction of  employer  and  employed  is  sometimes  for- 
gotten, to  the  advantage  of  both,  as  happens  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  when  the  principal  of  a  large  school  is 
a  fine  man,  and  proves  himself  the  wise  friend  of  all 
the  women  who  are  his  assistants.  Such  men  and  women 
work  together  with  high  aims,  and  their  friendship  rests 
on  a  rational  foundation.  Artists  and  musicians,  physi- 
cians and  nurses  have  the  same  opportunity  to  help  each 
other,  —  even  men  and  women  who  do  mechanical  labour 
learn  to  know  each  other's  sterling  qualities  when  they 
work  side  by  side  for  a  common  employer.  Indeed  any 
work  in  which  men  and  women  can  engage  together 
teaches  them  supplementary  lessons  which  neither  can 
learn  alone,  except  that  which  is  done  by  the  employed 
simply  for  the  salary  it  brings,  and  by  the  employer 
simply   to  increase  his  income. 

But  while  every  single  woman  has  reason  to  be  grate- 
ful for  the  opportunities  she  has  to  make  a  few  friends 
among  men,  she  will  always  be  somewhat  hampered  in 
this  direction.  There  are  some  drawbacks  to  every  lot, 
and  even  a  single  woman  cannot  expect  to  have  every- 
thing she  would  like.     There  is  no  limit  set,  however,  to 


FRIENDS.  203 

the  friendships  of  women  among  themselves ;  and  these 
add  a  depth  and  richness  to  the  lives  of  the  unmarried 
which  cannot  be  overvalued. 

But  how  can  we  win  a  friend  ?  The  perfect  friendship 
comes  to  us  as  a  gift  of  God.  We  do  not  seek  it.  We 
are  as  much  startled  sometimes  to  find  we  have  made  a 
friend  as  if  a  new  and  unexpected  continent  had  burst 
upon  our  vision.     What  is  the  secret  ? 

Friendship  is  always  possible  to  those  who  love  the 
same  things,  provided  these  things  are  so  high  as  to  lift 
them  out  of  themselves.  A  friendship  which  spends  it- 
self very  much  in  imparting  personal  statistics  to  even 
the  wisest  sympathizer  will  not  wear.  Those  who 
supremely  love  goodness  can  never  be  long  left  solitary. 
Those  who  love  nature,  or  poetry,  or  beauty  in  any  form, 
already  have  that  within  them  which  may  crystallize  into 
friendship  at  any  moment  when  another  true  lover  comes 
along.  This  does  not  appear  to  be  quite  true  of  those 
who  simply  love  art  in  a  critical  way.  Even  painting 
and  music,  when  studied  merely  as  a  means  of  culture, 
sometimes  make  us  envious  of  the  culture  of  others,  in- 
stead of  giving  us  a  thrill  of  delight  in  finding  that 
some  one  else  has  seen  the  charm  we  see.  Friend- 
ship is  only  possible  to  those  who  have  a  pure  and 
single  aim. 


204  TIIK    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

XIII. 

YOUTH    AND   AGE. 

HPHE  difference  between  a  young  woman  and  an  old 
■*■       one  is  most  marked  in  the  case  of  single  women. 

"  It  is  easier  to  be  hopeful  at  twenty  than  at  thirty," 
said  a  woman  who  had  reached  the  latter  age  to  a  friend 
of  sixty.  The  elder  lady  gasped.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
inquired  the  younger.  "  I  was  only  thinking,"  was  the 
rejoinder,  "  how  little  /  knew  at  thirty  of  the  real  dis- 
cipline of  life.  But  don't  be  frightened,  my  dear ;  my 
experience  does  not  prove  that  yours  will  be  like  it." 

The  freer  women  are,  the  later  the  age  at  which  hey 
are  looked  upon  by  the  world  in  general  as  "  old  maids." 
We  do  not  need  to  consider  the  child-brides  of  the  East 
to  show  this.  It  is  true  in  America.  Fifty  years  ago, 
thirty  was  the  extreme  limit  of  full,  youthful  life  allowed 
to  a  single  woman.  Even  now  she  is  technically  an  old 
maid  after  that  time  ;  but  any  one  who  chooses  to  observe 
will  see  that  the  women  between  thirty  and  forty  show 
the  same  vigour  and  active  interest  in  the  world  around 
them  that  used  to  be  thought  the  characteristic  of  youth. 
Even  physically  these  years  tell  less  heavily  than  for- 
merly ;  and  when  a  woman's  means  allow  her  to  follow 


YOUTH    AND    AGE. 


205 


her  tastes  in  dress,  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  decide 
whether  she  is  twenty-five  or  thirty-five,  though  she  may 
be  quite  guiltless  o.f  any  attempt  at  "  making-up."  The 
freedom  which  has  produced  this  change  has  come 
through  the  opening  of  avenues  for  earning  money. 
When  the  failure  to  marry  involved  the  settling  down  in  a 
life  of  dependence  as  a  household  drudge,  no  wonder 
women  were  old  at  thirty.  Now  that  there  is  a  different 
alternative,  most  women  keep  a  measure  of  youth  till 
forty,  and  though,  of  course,  few  marry  later  than  thirty, 
yet  their  prolonged  activity  does  react  even  in  this  direc- 
tion, and  it  is  more  and  more  common  to  marry  late  in 
life.  If  some  Rip  Van  Winkle  who  fell  asleep  early  in 
the  century  were  to  wake  up  now,  would  he  not  find 
the  single  woman  of  forty  quite  as  fresh  and  quite  as 
free  from  crotchets  as  one  of  thirty  used  to  be  ?  So  may 
we  not  say  that  the  age  when  a  woman  becomes  an  "  old 
maid  "  has  been  raised  from  thirty  to  forty?  Could  that 
ever  have  been  so  if  she  had  remained  poor? 

Consider  the  merely  secondary  question  of  dress.  In 
the  period  of  girlish  bloom,  this  is  not  so  important ; 
but  when  the  bloom  is  gone,  suitable  dress  is  indispensable 
to  give  a  woman  a  pleasing  and  refined  air.  A  poor 
woman,  already  dependent  on  others,  or  anticipating  de- 
pendence in  the  immediate  future,  is  often  obliged  to 
forego  the  satisfaction  of  tasteful  dress  exactly  at  the 
time  she  most  feels  the  need  of  it ;  and  the  conscious- 


2o6  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

ness  of  being  more  ill- dressed  than  usual  often  deprives 
her  of  the  ease  of  manner  which  is  so  good  a  substitute 
for  beauty. 

While  exulting  in  youth  and  strength,  one  does  not 
mind  spending  freely  on  dress,  on  education,  on  pleas- 
ure, and  on  travel,  feeling  such  superabundant  resources 
within  oneself;  but  when  the  strength  fails,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  disregard  economy,  and  so  the  inevitable  change 
is  greatly  hastened.  Consider,  too,  how  much  more 
difficult  even  neatness  becomes  to  the  old  whose  eyes 
are  failing  ! 

The  poorer  a  woman  is,  the  sooner  she  becomes  an 
old  woman.  The  destruction  of  the  poor  is  always  their 
poverty,  and  the  desperate  effort  to  save  narrows  the  life 
so  that  the  power  to  earn  fails  too  early.  Few  women 
earn  much  at  best.  How  many  do  we  know  among  them 
all,  however  clever  and  industrious  and  frugal,  who  have 
been  able  to  save  enough  from  their  earnings  to  allow 
them  an  easy  old  age? 

The  comfortable  old  ladies  are  invariably  those  who 
have  made  investments.  Legitimate,  trustworthy  invest- 
ments are  much  harder  to  find  now  than  they  were  fifty 
years  ago,  and  the  rates  of  interest  accessible  to  a  pru- 
dent maiden  lady  are  much  less  than  then,  so  that  with 
all  the  advantages  the  present  generation  has  in  the  mat- 
ter of  earning  money,  the  case  of  those  who  are  past  work 
is  usually  an  anxious  one. 


YOUTH    AND    AGE.  207 

Most  of  us  can  call  to  mind  single  women  we  knew 
in  our  youth,  who,  having  in  their  youth  taught  half-a- 
dozen  years  or  so,  had  then  retired  and  had  apparently 
lived  on  their  income  ever  after.  Yet  they  may  have 
taught  district  schools  at  four  or  five  dollars  a  week.  Of 
course  their  teaching  was  not  as  lucrative  as  it  appeared 
to  be ;  but  a  competence,  the  Socialists  tell  us,  is  always 
gained  by  investments  and  never  by  work.  The  teach- 
ers of  the  present  certainly  have  a  much  wider  and  fuller 
life  than  their  predecessors.  They  buy  libraries  and 
pictures  and  pianos,  they  go  to  concerts  and  the  theatre, 
they  adopt  children  and  manage  missionary  enterprises, 
and  they  travel  from  Alaska  to  New  Zealand.  They 
have  very  little  left  in  the  end  for  their  old  age,  which, 
however,  is  luckily  long  postponed  by  all  these  agree- 
able occupations.  If  you  chide  them  with  extravagance, 
they  will  tell  you  that  they  could  not  do  their  work  with- 
out such  diversions,  and  that,  moreover,  it  would  be  folly 
to  pinch  themselves  to  save  the  few  dollars  which  might 
possibly  be  spared,  since  at  the  present  rates  of  interest 
they  could  never  hope  to  lay  aside  enough  to  live  on.  I 
doubt  if  any  reader  can  name  three  teachers  among  her 
own  acquaintances  who  can  live  entirely  on  their  own 
savings. 

I  remember  once  hearing  a  teacher  of  thirty  say 
lugubriously,  "  I  suppose  the  very  best  that  can  happen 
to  me  is  to  lead  such  a  life  as  Miss  A's.     Miss  A.  taught 


208  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN 

till  she  was  sixty,  and  then  settled  quietly  down  in  her 
own  cottage  and  lived  in  comfort.  Most  teachers  do 
not  accomplish  even  so  much  as  that."  "  Did  you  really 
think  Miss  A.  earned  her  cottage?"  asked  a  friend. 
"  Why,  everything  she  had  was  given  to  her  by  her 
cousin  !  " 

If  all  this  is  true  of  teachers,  how  much  more  must  it 
be  true  of  the  great  army  of  single  women  who  earn 
much  less  than  teachers  !  Of  course  all  poor  people, 
of  whatever  sex  or  condition,  have  to  meet  some  of 
the  same  facts.  But  the  married  can  usually  look  to 
their  children  for  help  when  their  strength  fails  alto- 
gether. I  know  a  widow  who  has  had  a  son  and 
daughter  to  support,  and  the  struggle  has  often  been  a 
desperate  one.  She  has  sent  them  both  through  col- 
lege, and  now,  while  she  is  not  yet  too  old  to  fill  a  fine 
position  acceptably,  her  son,  an  architect,  and  her 
daughter,  a  lawyer,  are  abundantly  able  to  care  for  her. 
In  contrast  to  her,  I  know  a  single  woman  who  for 
about  the  same  number  of  years  has  had  to  support  an 
infirm  father,  and  now  that  she  sees  the  time  when  she 
must  cease  earning  very  near,  her  father  needs  her 
more  than  ever. 

What  does  become  of  the  single  women  who  have 
outlived  their  working  power,  and  who  have  not  acted 
the  part  of  wise  virgins  and  filled  their  lamps  with  the 
oil  of  investments  ?     "  What   will  become   of  the  poor 


YOUTH    AND    AGE.  2(X) 

creature?"  cried  one  lady,  speaking  of  another  who 
had  just  been  displaced  from  her  position  in  school  to 
make  way  for  a  younger  and  better  equipped  teacher. 
"  Oh,"  replied  a  member  of  the  committee,  care- 
lessly, "  her  sister's  husband  is  well  off.  He  must  take 
care  of  her  "  !  Fancy  inviting  your  sister's  husband  to 
take  care  of  you  !  There  are  all  kinds  of  discipline  in 
the  world ;  but  we  can  hardly  wonder  that  elderly 
ladies  sometimes  cling  to  positions  which  might  be  as 
well  or  even  better  filled  by  younger  women,  when 
the  alternative  may  be  dependence  on  a  relative  by 
marriage  ! 

As  no  one  is  bound  to  care  for  a  single  woman  in  her 
old  age,  it  is  certainly  worth  while  for  her  to  try  both  to 
earn  and  to  save  as  much  as  she  can  before  it  is  too  late. 
But  the  saving  of  money  often  involves  the  loss  of  some- 
thing better  than  money.  A  single  woman  whose  lead- 
ing virtue  is  prudence  may  avoid  dependence,  but  she 
will  hardly  avoid  being  a  typical  old  maid.  No  one 
will  ever  be  able  to  lead  a  very  noble  life  who  cannot 
sometimes  trust  the  guiding  power  of  the  universe  for 
something  more  than  she  can  see. 

Though  our  time  in  giving  well-paid  work  to  women 
has  added  ten  years  to  their  youth,  yet  in  every  genera- 
tion we  see  many  women  in  whom  all  the  old-maidish 
characteristics  are  so  intensified  when  they  reach  the 
age  of  forty  or  fifty  as  to  require  some  explanation,  since 

14 


2IO  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

no  one  leaves  all  her  virtues  behind  her  on  passing  any 
given  birthday.  The  decline  of  physical  vigour  does  not 
give  the  key  to  the  riddle,  because  a  rich  woman  who 
leads  an  active  life,  or  a  poorer  one  who  supports  her- 
self by  congenial  work,  does  not  show  this  deterioration. 
In  these  cases  the  character  ripens  and  mellows  till  it 
has  a  depth  of  loveliness  not  found  in  younger  women. 
The  serene  and  beautiful  old  age  of  many  unmarried 
women  calls  out  only  admiration  and  reverence.  It  is 
the  poor  women  who  are  misplaced  in  early  life,  or  the 
rich  women  who  are  allowed  no  outlet  for  their  powers, 
who,  when  the  physical  strength  wanes,  find  themselves 
unequal  to  the  demands  upon  them. 

An  old  maid,  strictly  speaking,  is  a  forlorn  creature. 
Poverty,  or  any  other  circumstance  which  represses 
natural  development,  produces  a  forlorn  creature  at  last, 
even  if  the  battle  is  waged  bravely  for  many  years.  If 
you  have  undertaken  the  wrong  work  in  life,  the  dis- 
aster is  cumulative.  There  are,  of  course,  many  people 
so  gifted  that  they  can  do  many  things  passably  well ; 
but  the  demand  for  passable  work  is  constantly  de- 
creasing. Superior  work  is  called  for.  Moreover,  work 
which  does  not  interest  you  much  may  be  endured  for 
a  time  in  youth,  when  you  are  sanguine  that  you  will  be 
relieved  from  it  before  long ;  but  it  becomes  more  and 
more  irksome  as  the  years  roll  by,  and  when  you  at 
last  realize  that  for  your  whole  life  it  is  to  be  your  only 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  211 

bulwark  against  want,  it  certainly  wears  a  very  unpre- 
possessing aspect. 

It  is  not  always  possible  to  do  the  work  we  fancy  we 
should  like ;  but  let  us  try,  when  young,  to  choose  what 
we  are  best  fitted  for,  or  at  least  something  worth  do- 
ing, and  then  let  us  patiently  and  unceasingly  try  to 
conquer  all  the  difficulties  which  beset  even  the  most 
fascinating  occupation,  so  that  the  web  we  weave  may 
be  durable  to  the  end. 

Nobody  should  tell  a  girl  that  it  makes  little  difference 
what  she  does,  if  she  only  puts  the  right  spirit  into  her 
work.  It  makes  all  the  difference  of  working  with  or 
without  friction,  though  it  is  true  that  character  is  a 
lubricating  oil  which  will  destroy  much  friction,  and 
moreover  there  is  a  certain  charm  in  experience  of  all 
kinds,  however  painful.  The  feeling  that  a  particularly 
hard  task  has  been  set  us  ought  to  stimulate  us  to  see 
what  we  can  do  with  it.  The  dregs  of  a  cup  may  be 
bitter;  but  when  we  have  fearlessly  drained  it,  they 
sometimes  turn  to  sweetness.  So,  though  the  young 
must  be  most  discriminating  in  their  choice  of  possible 
lives,  the  elders  who  know  they  have  chosen  wrong 
may  rejoice  in  their  opportunity  to  work  out  the  wonder- 
ful problem  set  us  anew  at  every  crisis,  how  to  make 
character  conquer  circumstances. 

Fruit,  in  character,  is  a  different  thing  from  its  bud. 
The  plant   does  not  fulfil  its  purpose  till    the  beautiful 


212  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

and  perfect  fruit  is  formed.  But  then  the  fruit  must 
fall  and  give  way  to  a  new  generation.  Every  human 
being  who  lives  to  be  old  has  to  meet  the  experience  of 
being  supplanted  by  the  young.  All  sometime  have  to 
say  of  another,  "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must  de- 
crease." It  is  not  very  easy  to  say  this  cheerfully, 
without  envy.  The  most  successful  person  seldom  suc- 
ceeds so  well  that  he  can  be  satisfied  to  think  that  his 
best  days  are  over.  But  it  must  be  easier  to  yield  place 
to  one's  own  children  than  to  strangers.  Parents 
eagerly  strive  all  their  lives  to  give  the  children  better 
opportunities  than  they  had  themselves,  and  when  the 
children  outstrip  them  in  the  race,  the  temptation  is 
rather  towards  pride  than  envy.  But  those  who  have 
no  children  must  be  noble  indeed  if  they  can  see  young 
people  they  played  with  as  infants  easily  carrying  off  all 
the  honours  and  stepping  into  all  the  desirable  places. 
Those  who  talk  about  "  soured  and  embittered  old 
maids "  should  take  this  fact  into  consideration.  For 
the  old  maids  themselves,  however,  there  is  another  view 
to  be  taken.  In  our  sane  moments  do  we  not  all  wish 
heartily  for  the  improvement  and  progress  of  the  whole 
race  from  generation  to  generation,  and  do  we  not  try 
our  best  to  help  the  young  to  higher  ground  than  our 
own?  Ought  we  not  to  rejoice  when  our  efforts  suc- 
ceed? We  have  failed  to  secure  a  competence  for  our- 
selves, perhaps,  but    our  washerwoman's  little  boy,  en- 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  2  13 

couraged  at  a  critical  age  by  our  advice,  is  a  business 
magnate.  Is  it  possible  that  we  were  not  in  earnest 
when  we  laughingly  foretold  this  fortune  for  him  if  he 
would  persevere  in  the  right  way?  Is  it  possible  that 
now  it  is  accomplished,  we  are  capable  of  the  mean- 
ness of  wishing  that  he  were  still  poor  enough  to  look 
up  to  us  with  the  old  awe? 

Or  suppose  that  our  lifelong  effort  to  be  an  artist  has 
brought  us  no  farther  than  the  drudgery  of  being  a 
drawing- mistress,  while  the  bright  girl  who  was  our 
favourite  pupil  twenty  years  ago  has  had  pictures  in  the 
Salon,  and  can  now  correct  every  statement  we  make 
when  we  walk  with  her  through  an  Art  Gallery,  —  can  it 
be  that  because  we  did  not  have  her  early  chances, 
or  even  because  we  were  less  gifted  by  nature,  we 
regret  that  she  has  left  us  so  far  behind?  We  re- 
member how  we  once  hoped  she  would  succeed.  Do 
we  rejoice  the  less  in  her  success  because  we  have  not 
succeeded  ourselves? 

Or,  being  musical,  we  have  never  been  heard  of  out 
of  our  native  town ;  but  is  it  possible  that  we  are  un- 
easy because  our  friend's  child  whose  first  pair  of  socks 
we  knit,  has  received  an  ovation  in  Music  Hall? 

When  we  ask  ourselves  a  few  questions  like  these,  we 
often  have  to  hang  our  heads  with  shame  before  we  can 
answer  them.  What  do  we  really  love?  Do  we  love 
ourselves  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else?     Or  do 


214  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

we  love  everything  bright  and  beautiful  in  the  universe, 
so  that  we  can  rejoice  in  the  music  or  the  picture  or 
the  poetry  which  we  have  not  created?  Have  we  any 
feeling  but  thankfulness  that  our  young  friends  are  hap- 
pier than  we  were  ?  "  Suppose  Mary  can't  afford  to  go 
to  college  !  "  said  one  of  Mary's  aunts.  "  I  could  n't 
afford  to  go  to  college,  either,  when  I  was  a  girl.  Mary 
must  bear  her  trials  like  the  rest  of  us."  Another  of 
Mary's  aunts  said  gently;  "It  is  just  because  I  re- 
member my  bitter  disappointment  when  I  had  to  give 
up  going  to  college  that  I  am  determined  Mary  shall  go, 
if  it  takes  every  penny  I  have." 

Because  we  have  resolutely  toiled  up  the  mountain, 
clearing  a  pathway  as  we  went,  picking  out  the  stones, 
cutting  down  the  briers,  those  who  start  long  after- 
ward catch  up  with  us  while  they  are  yet  fresh,  and 
clear  the  way  to  new  heights,  though  we  meantime  are 
too  weary  to  keep  up  with  them.  But  how  delightful 
it  is  to  know  that  every  step  gives  them  a  wider  and 
wider  prospect  far  beyond  our  horizon  !  It  is,  however, 
rather  hard  to  bear  when  our  young  friends  look  down 
scornfully  from  their  heights,  and  wonder  why  we  are 
so  slow.  And  yet  perhaps  we  remember  a  time  when 
we  looked  down  in  the  same  way  on  others.  One  great 
blessing  of  discipline  of  any  kind  is  that  it  helps  us  to 
see  truthfully.  A  clear  atmosphere  expands  our  horizon 
as  well  as  does  height. 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  215 

"  /  shall  never  be  in  Aunt  Jane's  place,"  once  said 
a  positive  young  girl,  replying  to  her  mother,  who  had 
been  criticising  her  treatment  of  a  disagreeable  maiden 
sister  of  her  father,  and  who  had  gently  suggested  that 
the  girl  herself  might  sometime  be  old  and  dependent 
like  her  obnoxious  aunt.  "  First,"  she  continued,  "  I 
don't  believe  Aunt  Jane  was  ever  bright  or  pleasant 
when  she  was  young ;  but  I  shall  try  to  be  bright 
and  pleasant  as  long  as  I  live.  And  then,  /  mean 
to  make  myself  loved.  Instead  of  laying  down  the 
law  and  interfering  with  everybody,  I  shall  try  to  help 
everybody."  "  Including  Aunt  Jane  ? "  added  her 
mother,  dryly.  The  girl  lived  to  remember  her  words. 
She,  too,  was  a  dependent  maiden-lady,  whose  nieces 
and  nephews  thought  her  prudent  suggestions  an  in- 
terference with  their  rights ;  while  her  manners  and 
habits  seemed  to  them  unpardonably  old-fashioned. 
Yet  she  was  thoroughly  kind  at  heart ;  and  having 
a  strong  character,  she  had  tried  hard  to  keep  abreast 
of  the  times. 

That  there  is  no  one  who  is  especially  called  upon  to 
love  and  cherish  an  unmarried  woman,  —  at  least  after 
she  loses  her  parents,  —  is  a  circumstance  which  intensi- 
fies the  demand  upon  her  for  character.  An  unlovely 
woman  has  absolutely  no  reason  to  hope  that  she  will 
not  be  left  altogether  desolate.  Her  only  chance  of 
happiness  lies  in  being  worthy  of  love. 


2l6  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

Some  of  us  succeed  better  than  others  in  keeping 
step  to  the  music  by  which  the  new  generation  marches, 
and  every  brave  soul  will  listen  for  its  exhilarating 
sound.  It  inspires  us  and  makes  us  young  again,  even 
when  we  are  old.  But  sooner  or  later  we  all  fall  be- 
hind. We  may  march  on  to  the  end,  but  it  must  be 
to  the  strains  of  older '  and  simpler  music.  Mrs.  Oli- 
phant  touches  this  point  lightly  in  "The  Perpetual 
Curate."  An  elderly  clergyman  and  a  younger  one 
meet  at  the  bedside  of  a  sick  woman.  Here,  too, 
are  the  daughters  of  a  church-warden,  one  of  whom 
is  twenty  years  the  senior  of  her  sister.  The  younger 
sister  is  a  beautiful  creature,  fired  with  the  love  of  all 
mankind,  who  likes  nothing  so  much  as  going  about 
among  the  poor  in  the  gray  cloak  of  a  Sister  of  Mercy. 
The  younger  clergyman,  too,  is  a  man  with  all  the  gifts 
and  graces,  who,  though  for  his  ritualism  he  has  risked 
his  expected  inheritance,  has  such  a  loving  heart  within 
him  that  he  knows  by  instinct  the  way  to  comfort  the 
wretched.  The  other  man  and  woman  are  equally  ad- 
mirable. The  elder  sister,  though  no  longer  young, 
has  still  a  lovely  face,  set  off  by  the  dove-coloured 
dress  she  likes  to  wear.  All  four  of  these  people  sin- 
cerely wish  to  help  the  poor  family  in  distress.  The 
two  younger  see  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  exactly 
what  to  do.  The  other  two  stand  helpless  and  awk- 
ward.    Both  are  conscious  that  they  cannot  do  what  the 


YOUTH   AND    AGE.  21 7 

younger  ones  are  doing.  Humiliated,  their  glances 
meet.  And  then  all  at  once  they  are  themselves  com- 
forted, for  each  sees  the  helplessness  of  the  other, 
and  understands  that  it  is  no  fault  in  either,  but  simply 
the  result  of  their  belonging  to  another  generation. 
Their  sympathy  soon  increases  to  love.  They  cannot 
keep  step  to  the  martial  strains  to  which  the  younger 
people  march  so  naturally ;  but  they  can  together  keep 
step  to  very  sweet  old   music. 

Many  shafts  of  ridicule  are  shot  at  "old  girls,"  —  not 
of  the  type  of  the  cheerful,  efficient,  weather-beaten 
Mrs.  Bagnet,  whom  her  husband  rightly  describes  as 
the  "  old  girl,"  but  at  those  of  the  sort  who  shriek, 
"  For  mercy's  sake,  don't  mention  the  war ;  that  was 
thirty  years  ago."  These  are  they  who  fondly  believe 
that  nobody  knows  how  old  they  are  !  They  are  often 
amiable  in  their  absurdity,  having  so  strong  a  desire 
to  please  that  it  is  almost  touching.  They  are  to  be 
pitied  because  their  life  has  flowed  only  over  shallows, 
and  they  have  not  yet  come  to  the  dignity  of  woman. 

Having  the  remembrance  of  these  "  old  girls  "  in 
her  mind,  a  dignified  woman  frequently  prefers  to  dress 
as  if  she  were  older  rather  than  younger  than  she 
really  is.  The  assumption  of  the  graces  of  youth  by 
age  is  silly.  Any  reader  of  "  Barchester  Towers  "  will 
remember  the  agreeable  impression  we  form  of  "  Char- 
lotte Stanhope  "  at  the  outset  simply  because   she  had 


2l8  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

the  good  sense  —  being  past  thirty — not  to  put  on 
girlish  airs;  though  we  afterward  discover  that  her 
good  sense  did  not  save  her  from  being  both  cold- 
hearted  and   worldly-minded. 

It  is  doubtful,  after  all,  whether  we  are  not  as  mis- 
taken in  yielding  to  age  too  soon  as  in  clinging  to 
youth  too  long.  We  certainly  wish  to  keep  young  in 
feeling  to  the  last,  and  can  any  one  give  a  valid  reason 
why  we  should  not,  if  we  can,  look  as  young  as  we  feel? 
I  have  heard  of  a  man  who  promptly  deserted  his  wife 
because  she  had  deceived  him  about  her  age.  Most  of 
us,  in  such  a  case,  would  give  the  husband  some  meas- 
ure of  sympathy;  but  ordinarily  one's  age  should  not 
be  a  matter  of  concern  to  other  people. 

And  it  is  not  the  parish  register  alone  which  decides 
our  youth,  either  physically  or  mentally.  A  sound 
mind,  a  sound  body,  a  fresh  heart,  an  active  interest 
in  all  the  onward  movements  of  the  race,  —  these  are 
the  essential  characteristics  of  youth.  Pure  air,  and 
exercise,  and  healthful  recreation  preserve  a  sound 
body ;  reasonable,  and  not  feverish,  mental  labour  de- 
velops a  sound  mind ;  opening  our  heart  to  the  love 
of  all  around  us  keeps  us  fresh ;  and  willing  work  leads 
to  genuine  enthusiasm  about  the  work  of  others.  Being 
thus  young,  is  there  any  objection  to  our  appearing 
so?  I  remember  an  old  lady  who  had  loved  the  fields 
and  woods  all  her  life,  who  continued  her  rambles  till 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  219 

she  was  past  seventy-five.  Slender  and  elastic,  a  stone- 
wall was  no  barrier  to  her  when  she  saw  beautiful 
flowers  or  ferns  beyond  it.  "  I  suppose  it  is  rather 
undignified,  my  dear,"  she  would  say  apologetically ; 
"  but  you  needn't  tell  anybody." 

"  I  suppose  I  am  the  oldest  woman  in  the  house," 
said  a  charming  old  lady  of  eighty,  who  had  gone  to 
the  theatre  to  see  Julia  Marlowe  play  "Juliet,"  "and 
no  doubt  everybody  who  sees  me  thinks  I  had  better 
be  at  home ;  but  I  am  not  so  old  as  to  have  outgrown 
Shakspeare,  and  I  hope  I  shall  always  love  a  good 
love-story." 

The  great  mark  of  age  is  that  "  desire  shall  fail." 
As  long  as  we  keep  a  keen  interest  in  persons  and 
things,  in  new  truths  and  insights,  we  are  not  old. 

But  however  young  we  feel,  there  are  certain  visible 
incongruities  to  be  avoided.  A  scrawny  neck  is  not 
beautiful,  however  youthful  the  feelings  of  its  owner. 
Gray  hair  forms  a  softer  setting  for  the  wrinkled  face 
than  does  the  dyed  variety.  Our  dancing  days  need 
not  be  over  as  long  as  we  can  dance  ;  but  rheumatism 
does  finally  prevail  to  such  a  degree  that  the  exercise 
we  see  to  be  beneficial  cannot  be  taken  to  the  sound 
of  a  violin.  Nevertheless,  as  long  as  suitable  dress 
will   make  us  look  young,  why  not  wear  it? 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  am 
going  to  be   married  in  white,"  said   an  elderly  bride, 


220  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

in  whose  early  years  the  course  of  true  love  had  not 
run  smooth ;  "  but  my  view  is  that  if  I  am  not  too  old 
to  be  married,  I  am  not  too  old  to  have  a  wedding- 
dress."  Though  she  was  old  and  plain,  she  was  erect 
and  happy,  and  wore  her  robes  like  a  queen,  while  the 
soft  folds  of  the  bridal  veil  hid  all  harsh  lines  and 
showed  only  the  sweetness  of  her  smile.  It  was  worth 
taking  the  pains  to  be  beautiful  for  once,  though  her 
lover  knew  her  age  very  well,  and  understood  that  she 
could  not  look  like  this  every  day. 

I  know  a  handsome  married  woman  of  thirty  or  so 
whose  rose-leaf  complexion  and  innocent  eyes  make 
her  look  like  a  girl  of  sixteen.  She  has  a  fancy  when 
at  home  for  braiding  her  mass  of  wonderful  golden  hair 

"in  a  tresse 
Behind  her  back,  a  yerde  long,  I  guesse," 

exactly  as  girls  of  sixteen  do.  If  anybody  laughs  at 
her  girlishness,  the  laugh  is  sweetened  by  admiration. 
It  is  generally  safe  to  defy  fashion  when  we  can  produce 
beauty,  though  a  great  risk  when,  as  is  usually  the  case, 
the  result  is  dubious.  For  why  do  not  all  women  of 
thirty-five  wear  their  hair  in  the  mode  of  sixteen? 
Because  they  often  have  so  little  to  wear.  Is  that 
any  reason  why  my  friend  should  coil  up  her  splendid 
locks?  Yet,  if  she  were  still  unmarried,  there  would 
not  be  wanting  censors  to  say  that  she  was  pretending 
to  be  young  for  the  sake  of  ensnaring  victims. 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  221 

Though  it  is  chiefly  the  judgment  which  grows  in 
age,  it  is  a  mistake  to  give  up  the  hope  of  growth 
in  any  direction  simply  because  we  have  passed  the 
usual  age  for  improvement.  Who  are  we  to  say  that 
we  are  too  old  to  correct  our  pronunciation,  or  our 
table  manners,  or  our  hasty  temper,  or  any  of  our 
disagreeable  habits?  Let  us  not  be  ashamed  of 
our  wrinkles ;  but  after  all,  are  we  quite  sure  we  need 
to  wear  wrinkles,  now  that  face  massage  and  nourish- 
ment have  apparently  been  reduced  to  a  science,  so 
that  beauty  is  preserved,  as  it  always  should  be,  by 
attention  to  the  health  of  all  parts  of  the  body,  and 
not  by  the  poor  devices  that  defy  health?  (Wrinkles, 
however,  like  every  joint  and  line  of  the  body,  must, 
according  to  the  scientists,  tell  the  story  of  life  and 
action;  and  if  the  life  and  actions  have  been  good, 
we  need  not  be  afraid  to  let  the  tale  be  told.)  I  have 
known  an  old  gentleman  whose  eyes  failed  at  the  usual 
time,  and  who  yet,  at  sixty-four,  recovered  his  sight 
perfectly,  so  that  he  read  the  finest  print  without  glasses 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  twenty  years  later. 

But,  however  long  we  may  keep  our  youth,  we  grow 
old  at  last,  and  we  are  less  and  less  fitted  for  the  tasks 
of  younger  people.  The  only  powders  that  increase  with 
age  are  thought  and  judgment.  The  teacher,  for  in- 
stance, who  can  manage  a  school  well,  or  one  who  is 
particularly  original    and   wise,   may  hold    her    position 


222  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

till  seventy;  when  a  mere  assistant,  who  has  simply 
plodded  along  in  ruts,  may  be  superannuated  at  forty. 

In  the  hard  eyes  of  the  world  at  large,  an  old  maid 
outlives  her  usefulness  sooner  than  most  other  people. 
Even  a  social  reformer  like  Hertzka,  the  author  of 
"  Freehand, "  who  tries  to  construct  an  earthly  paradise 
for  all,  and  who  therefore  cannot  shut  out  old  maids, 
explains  the  ingenious  method  by  which  their  advent 
into  the  promised  land  was  delayed  as  long  as  possible. 
He  seems  to  be  justified,  because  strong,  fresh  workers 
were  certainly  most  needed  at  first ;  yet  his  account  is 
more  pathetic  than  amusing  to  those  who  read  between 
the  lines.  Even  he  would  admit  those  of  special  gifts. 
Indeed,  there  is  always  a  place  in  the  world  for  thinkers. 
Of  course  the  time  comes  when  even  thought  fails ;  but 
then  the  life  is  far  spent.  Those  of  us  who  hope  for 
a  green  old  age  must  cultivate  our  powers  of  thought. 
We  must  not  be  contented  to  waste  our  energies  on 
trivial  things,  we  must  not  even  take  our  judgments 
ready-made  from  books  ;  we  must  think  in  earnest  all  our 
lives.  Then  we  shall  have  a  definite  place  to  fill,  and 
a  definite  work  to  do  for  others,  even  when  we  are 
blind  and  deaf  and  lame.  The  wisest  young  people 
cannot  then  do  without  us  altogether ;  for  till  their 
insight  is  verified  by  experience,  they  must  always  feel 
doubtful  as  to  some  of  their  visions. 

There  is  a  higher  motive  than  policy  which  bids  us 


YOUTH   AND   AGE.  223 

grow  to  maturity.     Here  is  a  sonnet  of  Hartley  Coleridge 
which  is  worth  our  study  in  this  connection,  — 

"  Long  time  a  child,  and  still  a  child  when  years 
Had  painted  manhood  on  my  cheek,  was  I ; 
For  yet  I  lived  like  one  not  born  to  die, — 
A  thriftless  prodigal  of  smiles  and  tears  ; 
No  hope  I  needed,  and  I  knew  no  fears. 
But  sleep,  though  sweet,  is  only  sleep  ;  and  waking, 
I  waked  to  sleep  no  more,  at  once  o'ertaking 
The  vanguard  of  my  age,  with  all  arrears 
Of  duty" on  my  back.     Nor  child  nor  man, 
Nor  youth  nor  sage,  I  find  my  head  is  gray, 
For  I  have  lost  the  race  I  never  ran  ; 
A  rathe  December  blights  my  lagging  May, 
And  still  I  am  a  child,  though  I  be  old  : 
Time  is  my  debtor  for  my  years  untold." 

To  keep  young  and  to  grow  mature  at  the  same 
time  requires  genius ;  but  it  is  essential  if  we  wish  to 
find  any  spot  to  rest  in  old  age.  We  mature  by  thought, 
and  by  taking  all  responsibilities  as  they  naturally  come 
to  us.  If  we  never  shirk  in  these  ways,  we  are  good 
for  something  even  when  we  fail  physically.  But  most 
of  us  grow  so  grave  and  tired  that  we  have  no  strength 
left  for  the  new  interests  which  keep  us  young.  It 
is  not  easy  to  be  sound  of  heart  and  head  at  the  same 
time.  Yet  that  is  —  shall  we  say  the  task,  or  rather  — 
the  glorious  ideal  set  before  us. 

Here  is  one  of  my  many  reasons  for  continually 
preaching  the  doctrine   that  we  should  all  have  special 


224  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

pursuits.  A  specialist  has  a  more  and  more  unique 
value  as  time  goes  on.  Those  who  come  after  him 
must  do  his  work  first  before  they  can  go  beyond  him. 
The  man  or  woman  who  knows  more  than  any  one  else 
about  some  subject,  however  small,  will  always  com- 
mand respect.  One  who  is  merely  a  specialist,  however, 
will  lead  a  narrow  life.  Let  us  try  to  have  a  reasonable 
knowledge  of  many  things.  And  while  special  acquire- 
ments give  us  an  assured  position  among  our  fellow- 
creatures,  any  great  thought  makes  our  inward  life  of 
value  to  ourselves.  Plato  says  that  a  new  truth  pre- 
serves us  till  another  season. 

And  study,  ardently  pursued,  brings  great  satisfaction ; 
but  in  old  age,  at  least  in  the  case  of  a  woman,  it  takes 
something  more  than  a  pursuit  to  make  us  happy.  We 
must  have  something  to  love.  There  are  women  who 
forget  this  in  the  Sturm  und  Drang  of  middle  life,  and 
find  it  out  too  late. 

Shall  we  sum  up  the  practical  means  to  secure  a 
dignified  and  cheerful  old  age? 

Let  us  make  ourselves  financially  independent  of 
others,  if  we  can  do  so  without  sacrificing  something 
better  than  independence. 

Let  us  keep  young  in  both  body  and  mind  as 'long 
as  we  can,  and  certainly  not  fancy  ourselves  old  till 
we  are  so. 


YOUTH   AND   AGE. 


225 


Let  us  study  faithfully  and  continually  two  or  three 
subjects  which  demand  thought. 

Let  us  look  at  all  questions  of  life  intelligently  and 
truthfully,  and  thus  learn  to  think ;  so  that  in  age  our 
opinions  may  be  judgments  to  be  respected. 

Let  us  live  much  out-of-doors,  and  look  for  beauty  of 
all  kinds,  —  in  Nature  and  art,  music  and  poetry,  and 
human  life. 

And  above  all,  let  us  give  ourselves  freely  in  love  to 
all  created  things  and  to  their  Creator. 

Then,  when  old  age  is  fairly  upon  us,  it  will  not  be 
hard  to  say,  in  the  words  of  Emerson's  "  Terminus"  : 

"  As  the  bird  trims  her  to  the  gale, 
I  trim  myself  to  the  storm  of  time, 
I  man  the  rudder,  reef  the  sail, 
Obey  the  voice  at  eve  obeyed  at  prime  : 
'  Lowly  faithful,  banish  fear, 
Right  onward  drive  unharmed  ; 
The  port,  well  worth  the  cruise,  is  near, 
And  every  wave  is  charmed.'  " 


15 


226  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 


XIV. 
CO-OPERATION. 

THERE  is  at  present  a  strong  tendency  among 
women  of  all  classes  to  organize  in  clubs,  —  as 
witness  the  two  thousand  visitors  to  the  Chicago  Con- 
federation of  Clubs  held  in  May,  1892.  From  Working- 
Girls'  Clubs  to  Sorosis,  there  are  associations  for  all  kinds 
of  work  and  all  kinds  of  pleasure,  —  even  without  laying 
stress  on  the  fact  that,  as  a  leading  member  of  the 
Chicago  Woman's  Club  once  remarked,  they  so  often 
incidentally  serve  the  delightful  purpose  of  "  clearing- 
houses "  for  party  calls,  and  other  devices  of  the  unoc- 
cupied to  fritter  away  the  time  of  women.  Literary 
clubs  flourish  everywhere ;  their  influence  is  excellent, 
but  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  society  composed  entirely 
of  women  is  exactly  the  best  place  for  an  unmarried 
woman.  At  all  events,  if  we  have  a  chance  to  choose 
between  a  woman's  club  and  a  mixed  club,  shall  we  not 
be  more  likely  to  supplement  our  own  deficiencies  and 
receive  new  inspiration  from  the  mixed  club?  It  is, 
however,  necessary  for  women  to  work  together  for 
certain  ends.  Take  the  working-girls'  clubs,  for  in- 
stance.    Let  me   quote    here   from   a   sketch   of  them 


CO-OPERATION 


227 


given  in  the  "  Boston  Herald "  not  long  ago,  on  the 
occasion  of  their  annual  reunion  in  Tremont  Temple, 
under  the  title  of  "  A  Human  Sisterhood."  Their  work 
is  almost  a  new  thing;  but  "  it  is,"  says  the  "  Herald," 
"  one  of  those  noiseless  agencies  which  makes  headway 
because  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  Its  Monday  even- 
ings are  devoted  to  lectures,  entertainments,  and  socia- 
bles, except  when  business  meetings  are  in  order ;  on 
Tuesdays  there  are  classes  in  cookery,  embroidery, 
letter-writing,  and  composition ;  on  Wednesdays  dis- 
cussions alternate  with  a  dancing-class ;  on  Thursdays 
there  is  a  class  in  dress-cutting,  and  on  Fridays  dress- 
making and  millinery  are  in  order.  The  Monday  evening 
entertainments  during  the  winter  have  been  of  a  varied 
character,  giving  the  girls  a  great  many  good  lectures  on 
practical  subjects ;  and  in  the  Wednesday  evening  dis- 
cussions such  questions  as  '  Shall  we  call  ourselves 
ladies  or  women?'  'How  to  talk  correctly  and  well,' 
*  What  is  the  cause  of  low  wages  ?  '  and  '  What  do  we 
mean  by  marrying  well  ?  '  have  been  debated  by  those 
who  felt  a  practical  interest  in  them.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  a  sisterhood  of  this  kind,  which  is  not  a 
charity,  and  in  which  every  girl  is  made  to  feel  her  own 
independence  and  personality,  should  be  exceedingly 
popular,  and  should  be  rapidly  growing  in  numbers.  .  .  . 
It  has  no  religious  character,  it  has  no  relation  to  any 
trades-union  or  temperance  and  suffrage  societies ;   but 


228  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

it  is  chockful  of  common-sense  applied  to  the  real  con- 
ditions of  life.  .  .  .  One  of  its  greatest  results  has  been 
the  development  of  a  new  impulse  in  the  working-girls, 
—  something  to  stimulate  them  and  encourage  them  in 
their  daily  work,  the  opening  out  to  them  of  opportuni- 
ties for  mutual  service.  It  is  an  organization  capable  of 
almost  indefinite  expansion,  and  reaches  out  far  and 
wide  to  cheer  and  encourage  a  large  number  of  young 
women  who  have  but  little  of  the  bright  side  of  life  in 
their  daily  experience." 

Such  clubs  could  hardly  admit  young  men,  however 
desirable  that  might  be,  without  some  definite  plan  of 
supervision,  like  that  proposed  by  Miss  Lucia  Ames 
in  her  "  Memoirs  of  a  Millionaire."  Yet  the  King's 
Daughters  do  not  shut  out  the  King's  Sons;  the 
Chautauqua  Circles  and  Christian  Endeavour  Societies 
make  room  for  both  young  men  and  young  women. 

The  Alumnae  Associations  of  the  various  schools  and 
colleges  have,  at  least  for  the  time  being,  special  objects 
to  accomplish,  which  must  be  brought  about  chiefly  by 
women.  So  with  such  organizations  as  the  Woman's 
Rest  Tour  Association,  which,  beginning  modestly  in  the 
minds  of  two  or  three  young  Boston  ladies,  is  spreading 
fast  in  every  direction,  and  is  a  kind  of  co-operative 
bureau  of  information  and  assistance  for  cultivated 
women  of  small  means,  who  wish  to  travel  quietly  and 
thoughtfully  abroad   at   the   minimum  of  expense.      So 


CO-OPERATION. 


229 


with  the  Educational  and  Industrial  Union  of  Boston. 
Such  a  central  office  is  absolutely  necessary  to  meet 
the  wants  of  women  coming  as  strangers  to  the  city. 
The  need  of  it  is  even  more  imperative  than  that  of  the 
Christian  Union  and  the  Christian  Association  among 
young  men ;  and  we  all  know  what  valuable  work  these 
organizations  have  done.  A  truly  determining  force  in 
the  progress  of  women  is  the  Woman's  Education  Asso- 
ciation of  Boston ;  though  its  work  has  been  so  silent, 
and  accompanied  by  so  little  waste  of  words,  that  few 
realize  what  it  has  done  as  the  foster-mother  of  the 
Harvard  Annex,  in  aid  of  the  Natural  History  Museum 
and  the  Art  Museum,  in  providing  excellent  courses  in 
Natural  Science  and  Political  Economy  for  young  ladies 
out  of  school,  in  encouraging  home  study,  in  founding 
homes  and  gymnasiums,  and  in  promoting  manual 
training.  All  these  things,  and  a  hundred  others,  have 
been  done  simply,  without  the  aid  of  even  a  fair,  and 
chiefly  by  women  themselves;  though  they  have  con- 
stantly had  the  advice  and  co-operation  of  the  most 
eminent  men. 

I  shall  make  no  attempt  to  mention  all  the  women's 
clubs,  or  even  all  the  leading  ones  of  so  much  as  a  single 
city  like  Boston ;  I  have  only  called  attention  to  the 
kind  of  work  which  naturally  falls  into  the  hands  of 
women  of  leisure  and  education  when  they  combine 
with  each  other.     The  majority  of  women  in  these  clubs 


230  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

are  married ;  and  in  most  instances  it  is  better  for  a 
single  woman  to  co-operate  with  married  women  than 
with  those  of  her  own  estate.  But  there  are  many  signs 
that  the  next  fifty  years  will  see  a  great  increase  in 
another  kind  of  club,  which  will  benefit  the  unmar- 
ried women  almost  exclusively,  —  that  is,  a  club  where 
woman  will  live  with  as  much  freedom  as  in  a  hotel. 
There  is  something  repellent  in  this  prospect,  to  all 
who  are  able  to  grasp  the  real  idea  of  a  home,  as  a  place 
where  the  affections  are  nourished,  rather  than  as  a 
collection  of  beautifully  furnished  rooms ;  and  if  such 
clubs  should  prove  so  satisfying  that  women  should 
come  to  prefer  them  to  homes,  there  would  be  reason 
for  dismay ;  but  for  the  women  who  cannot  have  homes, 
such  institutions  are  an  urgent  want,  both  socially  and 
economically. 

The  Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  for  exam- 
ple, does  incalculable  good,  by  furnishing  girls  with  a 
refined,  well-ordered  home,  at  a  very  low  price.  Better 
still,  the  girls  find  suitable  companionship,  both  in  study 
and  recreation.  They  are  given  as  much  freedom  as 
can  be  safely  given  to  a  very  large  number  of  undis- 
ciplined girls  in  a  strange  city. 

But  for  women  above  thirty,  a  co-operative  home  where 
they  would  be  entirely  free  is  such  a  desideratum  that 
such  schemes  are  sure  to  be  tried  soon  on  a  large  scale, 
as  they  have  already  been  on  a  small  one.     The  great 


CO-OPERATION.  23  I 

trouble  appears  to  be  to  find  enough  women  who  are 
congenial,  who  will  consent  to  combine  and  observe 
necessary  conditions.  Rich  women  will  probably  always 
prefer  their  own  homes,  and  that  is  certainly  to  be  hoped. 
Self-supporting  women  do  not  now  command  enough 
money  to  admit  of  their  taking  a  large  enough  house,  in 
a  good  street,  to  make  the  experiment  a  success.  Half 
the  women  who  would  be  willing  to  co-operate  insist 
upon  finding  a  location  in  some  aristocratic  quarter,  and 
the  other  half  are  obliged  to  refuse  because  they  cannot 
afford  a  large  rent.  Of  course,  it  would  pay  in  the  end, 
if  twenty  or  thirty  women  could  be  served  from  one 
kitchen,  where  all  kinds  of  food  were  bought  at  whole- 
sale, and  cooked  by  the  Atkinson  apparatus,  in  the  scien- 
tific, healthful,  and  appetizing  methods  of  the  New 
England  Kitchen.  But  the  wage- earning  women  cannot 
try  such  a  venture.  They  have  not  much  money  in  ad- 
vance, and  it  is  hard  for  twenty  or  thirty  women  to  com- 
bine satisfactorily  in  any  new  scheme  where  it  is  necessary 
for  each  to  risk  almost  all  her  savings.  But  the  landlord 
who  builds  neat  and  tasteful  apartment  houses,  with 
suites  of  two  or  three  small  rooms  suited  to  women,  with 
a  private  restaurant  in  the  basement,  as  well  managed  as 
the  New  England  Kitchen,  in  a  respectable  quarter  of 
any  New  England  city,  and  who  will  be  content  with  a 
moderate  percentage  on  his  outlay,  will  find  he  has  not 
builded  in  vain.     Such  a  house  might  easily  become  a 


2  32  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

colony  of  little  homes,  —  one  woman  bringing  her  mother, 
another  her  friend,  and  another  a  little  niece  or  two  to 
vary  the  monotony  of  spinsters.  It  would  not  even  be 
necessary  to  insist  that  only  single  women  should  be  ad- 
mitted. If  food  could  be  served  in  the  separate  apart- 
ments (and  nothing  could  be  easier  than  to  send  down 
an  order  through  a  speaking-tube,  which  might  be  filled 
by  the  agency  of  a  dumb-waiter),  the  privacy  of  each 
apartment  would  be  so  complete  that  any  quiet  family 
who  found  such  rooms  satisfactory  would  not  be  out  of 
place  in  the  house.  But  it  would  not  do  to  raise  the 
rent  by  a  large  outlay  on  stucco-work  and  frescoing. 
Of  course  such  a  building  ought  to  be  planned  by  the 
women  themselves,  who  have  learned  their  own  needs 
practically ;  but  what  woman  of  experience  has  money 
enough  for  the  venture,  and  what  architect  or  builder 
would  think  of  calling  in  such  aid? 

The  whole  cost  of  heat,  light,  food,  and  service  in  such 
an  establishment  in  Boston  need  not  be  more  than  $200 
for  each  person.  The  rent  would  vary  with  the  locality, 
and  the  number  of  rooms;  but  it  would  be  quite  pos- 
sible for  a  co-operative  association  to  let  a  flat  of  four  or 
five  rooms  in  a  moderately  good  street,  to  two  women, 
for  another  $200  each.  Now,  though  $400  would  be  a 
large  sum  for  most  single  women  to  pay  for  a  home,  it  is 
considerably  less  than  marty  are  obliged  to  pay  for  board 
in   any  place   suited  to   the  work  they  have   to  do.     Of 


CO-OPERATION.  233 

course  smaller  apartments  in  some  very  modest  street 
ought  to  be  had  at  a  far  less  cost. 

In  connection  with  college  settlements,  the  question 
how  far  it  is  possible  for  women  of  small  means  to  live  a 
life  of  refinement  in  the  city  is  now  being  very  seriously 
discussed,  with  a  view  to  co-operation  among  such 
women. 

A  scheme  of  a  somewhat  different  nature  has  been 
undertaken  in  New  York.  I  quote  from  the  "  Business 
Woman's  Journal  "  :  "A  wealthy  New  York  woman  has 
had  built  on  Rivington  Street  a  comfortable,  commo- 
dious, fire-proof  structure,  to  be  used  as  a  lodging-house 
for  women.  For  fifteen  cents,  a  clean  bed  in  a  comfort- 
able dormitory  can  be  obtained,  with  the  use  of  a  small 
cupboard.  For  thirty  cents  a  room  with  one  window 
may  be  had,  and  in  an  adjoining  restaurant  meals  can 
be  obtained  at  very  moderate  prices.  There  are  con- 
veniences for  washing  and  ironing  in  the  building,  and 
a  sitting-room  where  the  women  may  sit  and  read  and 
sew." 

There  are  already  many  institutions  for  the  shelter 
of  old  ladies,  —  "  Teachers'  Retreats,"  "  Old  Ladies' 
Homes,"  and  so  forth.  They  are  needed,  though  perhaps 
we  are  not  so  badly  off  in  this  country  as  our  cousins  in 
England,  where,  to  quote  from  the  "  Nation,"  some  say 
that  "  one  in  every  two  of  the  wage-earning  classes  who 
pass  the  age  of  sixty-five  dies  as  a  pauper,"  and  others  that 


234  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

u  forty-five  per  cent  of  all  persons  in  Kngland  who  reach 
the  age  of  sixty  years  die  as  paupers."  But  no  one  would 
choose  to  go  to  a  "  Home  "  or  a  "  Retreat  "  who  could 
possibly  help  it.  Nothing  but  a  co-operative  establish- 
ment, owned  and  managed  by  the  inmates  themselves, 
free  from  the  visits  of  a  Board,  and  not  liable  to  be  de- 
scribed in  the  papers  as  a  u  beautiful  charity,"  will  ever 
satisfy  independent,  self-respecting  women.  The  time  is 
probably  not  far  distant  when  such  co-operative  homes 
for  the  old  will  be  established.  The  first  will  be  among 
those  who  are  well-to-do  as  long  as  they  are  able  to  earn, 
but  who  have  little  to  fall  back  upon  at  last ;  and  their 
experiments  will  form  the  basis  for  others  undertaken  by 
those  who  are  a  little  poorer. 

These  experiments  will  be  necessarily  tried  by  unmar- 
ried women  who  have  no  children  to  care  for  them,  and 
who  have  no  means  to  keep  servants,  while  yet  they  do 
not  feel  it  safe  to  live  alone. 

To  suggest  possibilities.  —  Here  is  a  description  in  the 
Catalogue  of  Abandoned  Farms  in  Massachusetts,  issued 
in  1 89 1,  by  Mr.  William  R.  Sessions,  Secretary  of  the 
State  Board  of  Agriculture  :  Farm  of  2  acres,  suitable 
for  cultivation.  House  two-story,  square,  12  rooms, 
good  repair.  Barn  small,  in  good  repair.  Fences 
mostly  wire,  in  good  condition.  Cistern.  Railroad  sta- 
tion, 1  mile ;  post-office,  1  minute's  walk.  Price  $350, 
all  in  cash. 


CO-OPERATION.  235 

Now,  such  a  house  would  furnish  a  comfortable  home 
for  as  many  as  seven  women  who  could  agree  to  use  the 
same  kitchen,  dining-room,  and  parlor.  They  could,  of 
course,  do  all  of  their  own  work,  or,  if  they  chose,  they 
could  keep  a  servant,  doing  a  part  of  the  work  them- 
selves. One  of  them  could  buy  the  house  outright,  and 
the  others  could  pay  her  a  reasonable  rent. 

Here  are  some  estimates  of  expenses  founded  on 
actual  experience  :  — 

Board,  @  $1.25  per  week  for  each  of  7  persons .  $455 

Rent,  6  %  on  investment 21 

Fuel,  including  a  fire  in  each  private  room .     .     100 
Servant,  board  and  waste,  $2.00  per  week  .     .     104 

"        wages,  $3.00  per  week 156 

Total $836 

This  would  bring  the  expenses  of  each  down  to  about 
$1 19  a  year.  x\s  in  a  country  town  seven  women  co-oper- 
ating could  dress  with  the  utmost  simplicity  without  re- 
mark, it  would  not  be  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
$56  which  would  bring  the  total  annual  expenses  of  each 
woman  up  to  $175,  would  be  enough  for  comfort.  If 
these  seven  women  had  congenial  tastes,  they  would  each 
have  books  and  pictures,  music  and  bric-a-brac,  which 
would  interest  all  the  others.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  all 
the  women  might  not  be  of  the  same  age.  If  some  were 
under  forty,  there  would  seem  to  be  a  breath  of  youth 
about  the    house.      Two  acres  of   ground  would  allow 


236  THE    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

them  to  cultivate  flowers  if   they  liked,  or  even  a  few 
vegetables ;  there  would   be  room    for  pets,  and  if  any 
thrifty  old  lady  wished  to  raise  a  few  chickens,  who  would 
prevent  her?     A  week's  visit  from  a  friend  who  could 
share  one's  room  need  not  cost  more  than  the  week's 
board,  so  the  community  would  not  be  cut  off  from  the 
outside  world.     The  situation  of  this  farm  is  far  down 
Cape  Cod,  and  who  knows  whether  our  old  ladies  would 
even  have  a  view  of  the  ocean  from  their  home  ?     But 
there  are  a  great  many  other  abandoned  farms  scattered 
through  New  England,  where,  for  a  moderate  price,  beau- 
tiful scenery  as  well  as  a  comfortable  home  is  to  be  had. 
If  the  co-operators   had  an  income  of  $200  each,   the 
last  $25  would   easily  give   each  of  them  three  or* four 
weeks  in  the  city,  for  they  might  engage  an  unpretend- 
ing furnished  room,  and  occupy  it  by  twos  through  the 
winter,  keeping  a  few  plates  and  cups  and  a  chafing-dish 
there  for  the  preparation  of  simple  food.     In  Boston,  at 
least,  good  baked  beans  can  be  bought  for  eight  cents  a 
pint,  and  the  New  England  Kitchen  furnishes  the  most 
delicious  and  nourishing  stew  for  six  cents  a  pint,  while 
at  many  bakeries  two  good  fish-balls  can  be  bought  for 
consumption  in  private  at  five  cents  !     Three  weeks  in 
the  city  for  women  between  sixty  and  eighty  years  of  age 
does  not  mean  as  much   sight-seeing  as  for  the  young ; 
still  three  services  on  Sundays  would  give  them  an  op- 
portunity to  hear  the  leading  preachers  and  some  famous 


CO-OPERATION.  237 

singers,  there  would  be  time  to  visit  the  art  galleries,  sci- 
entific museums,  and  charitable  institutions ;  they  could 
look  up  doubtful  questions  in  the  libraries,  and  there  would 
always  be  four  of  the  admirable  free  Lowell  lectures  to 
choose  from  every  week.  Perhaps  they  might  save  pennies 
enough  for  a  symphony  now  and  then,  or  a  favourite  actor. 
Three  weeks  of  this  sort  would  give  one  something  to 
think  of  for  a  long  time  in  the  country ;  and  if  two  vis- 
ited the  city  together,  there  would  be  a  chance  to  talk 
over  things,  while  each  relay  of  visitors  would  have  some- 
thing new  to  tell.  There  would  be  no  stagnation  in  such 
a  household,  —  though  alas  !  we  may  not  forget  the 
probability  of  nerves  and  irritation.  An  income  of  two 
hundred  dollars  would  hardly  bring  such  returns  to  a 
woman  who  lived  alone ;  still,  such  an  income  from  four 
per  cent  investments  means  a  capital  of  $5,000,  and  two 
women  who  had $5,000  apiece  could  make  a  cosey  enough 
home  by  themselves  if  they  chose  to  do  housework,  and 
were  willing  to  forego  the  visit  to  the  city  and  a  few  other 
luxuries ;  and  there  would  probably  be  a  far  more  home- 
like atmosphere  in  a  house  inhabited  by  two  women  than 
by  seven.  I  am  not  advocating  the  Abandoned  Farm 
scheme  as  an  ideal  mode  of  existence,  but  merely  sug- 
gesting that  it  may  be  better  than  some  alternatives,  — 
the  almshouse,  for  instance,  or  dependence  on  a  distant 
relative.  And  then  the  almost  unavoidable  loneliness  of 
great  numbers  of  single  women,  as  they  grow  old,  must 


238  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

be  remembered.     Anything  which  provides  them  with  a 
number  of  congenial  friends  in  old  age  is  worth  consid- 
eration.   But  ah  !  there  are  so  few  self-supporting  women 
who  ever  lay  aside  $5,000  that  such  a  plan  as  this  will 
not  appeal  to   many.      By  co-operating  in    housework, 
however,  by  admitting  a  few  more  inmates  into  the  house, 
by  cutting  off  some  little  luxuries   from  the  table,  and 
staying  at   home  the  year  round,  it  is  within  bounds  to 
say  that  the  expenses  of  each  woman  might  be  reduced 
to  a  hundred  dollars  a  year.     Moreover,  everybody  tells 
us  that  life  at  the  South  costs  far  less  than  in  New  Eng- 
land, the  necessary  expenses  of  food,  shelter,  fuel,  and 
clothing  being  so  much  reduced  by  the  genial  climate, 
while  the  possibility  of  living  much  out-of-doors  adds  lux- 
ury to  the  poorest  home.     Why  should  not  a  colony  of 
women    past  earning  set  up  their  household    in    some 
favoured  spot  in  Virginia  for  even  less  than  the  above 
prices?     Even  a  hundred  dollars  a  year  means  a  prin- 
cipal of  $2,500,  which  ought  not,  indeed,  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  women  who  have  worked  and  saved  forty 
years ;  but,  as  a  matter-of-fact,  few  wage-earners  do  at- 
tain to   such  riches.     To  possess  the  fortune  necessary 
for  even  cheap  co-operative  living  in  old  age  involves  such 
foresight  and  prudence  in  working  women  from  their 
youth  on  that  it  will  be  long  before  almshouses  and  old 
ladies'  homes  will  be  unnecessary ;  still,  there  is  a  con- 
stantly increasing   class  who   could   live  in   comfort  by 


CO-OPERATION.  239 

co-operation  while  they  suffer  from  anxious  want  when 
trying  to  live  alone.  Such  women  will  finally  learn  to 
combine.  If  it  could  be  in  the  country,  where  there  is 
always  fresh  air  and  beauty  "  to  be  had  by  the  poorest 
comer,"  they  would  not  lose  all  of  life  worth  having  ;  but 
as  most  women,  as  well  as  men,  must  work  while  they 
can,  seldom  having  an  income  from  investments  large 
enough  for  the  most  meagre  support,  the  need  of  co-oper- 
ation in  the  city  where  there  are  chances  to  earn  is  most 
urgent.  Perhaps  some  new  light  on  these  questions 
may  be  thrown  by  the  lately  formed  Teachers'  Mutual 
Benefit  Association. 

If  in  the  next  century  new  social  conditions  prevail, 
as  is  predicted,  the  poor  may  then  be  less  called  upon 
to  speculate  about  the  length  of  time  they  can  afford  to 
live  after  they  are  forced  to  stop  working.  For  some 
time  to  come,  however,  women  who  have  no  claim  on 
the  younger  generation  will  have  occasion  to  consider 
how  far  co-operation  can  free  them  from  an  old  age  of 
care. 

The  reality  of  things  is  seldom  as  depressing  as  the 
possibility.  Most  unmarried  women  are  happily  not  re- 
duced to  such  alternatives  as  I  have  named.  And  why 
not?  Because  love  is  the  power  that  moves  the  world, 
and  even  an  old  maid  is  not  left  without  the  love  of 
warm  hearts.  Nevertheless,  it  is  sometimes  well  to  face 
the  worst.     When  we  have  provided  for  the  worst,  how 


240  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

gladly  we  can  welcome  the  spontaneous  kindness  which 
saves  us  from  it  !  What  a  different  feeling  we  then  have 
from  the  irksome  sense  of  gratitude  which  we  are  coerced 
into  when  others  help  us  because  they  are  forced  to 
do  so  ! 

Let  us  then  face  the  future  and  provide  for  it,  if  we 
can.  But  let  us  never  so  misread  the  meaning  of  the 
universe  as  to  postpone  the  present  duty  in  our  effort  to 
prepare  a  bulwark  against  a  future  need.  Let  us  never 
for  a  moment  permit  ourselves  to  fall  into  that  most 
frightful  of  all  forms  of  scepticism  which  allows  us  to 
doubt  that  God  will  be  able  to  take  care  of  us  when  our 
utmost  faithfulness  has  still  been  insufficient  for  us  to 
take  care  of  ourselves. 

"  Greif  an  mit  Gott,"  say  the  Germans,  —  "  Try, 
with  God's  help."  It  is  the  word  of  the  Swiss  peasant, 
entreating  some  one  to  save  the  fugitive  Baumgarten 
from  his  bloodthirsty  pursuers,  while  the  raging  lake  be- 
fore them  makes  instant  death  appear  inevitable  to  any 
one  embarking  upon  the  waters.  William  Tell,  risking 
everything,  prevailed ;  and  Baumgarten  was  saved. 


CHARACTER.  241 


XV. 

CHARACTER. 

T  N  spelling  out  our  answer  to  the  question  put  to  every 
f-  one  of  us,  "What  is  life?"  we  find  to  our  surprise 
that  though  we  want  life  to  go  deep,  we  shrink  from 
the  process.  Is  not  the  end  of  life  character?  Now, 
"  so  generous  is  fate  "  that  character  may  be  formed 
in  many  ways.  Here  the  married  and  the  unmarried 
have  an  equal  chance  and  an  equal  responsibility. 

And  yet  character  is  not  altogether  independent  of 
circumstances ;  that  is  to  say,  certain  circumstances 
favour  one  set  of  virtues  or  faults  more  than  another. 
It  is  popularly  believed  that  an  unmarried  life  produces 
crotchets ;  and  a  skilful  novelist,  whose  individuals  need 
not  stand  for  a  class,  may  have  a  right  to  present  the 
crotchets  of  a  single  woman,  so  as  to  make  her  a  very 
amusing  creature ;  but  can  the  writer  who  has  an  un- 
varnished tale  to  tell  truthfully  say  that  her  crotchets 
are  any  more  amusing  than  those  of  married  women? 
How  it  would  enliven  my  picture,  which  is  painted  in 
rather  sombre  colours,  if  I  could  think  so  !  As  beauty 
and  taste  in  dress  no  doubt  attract,  probably  an  undue 

16 


242  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

proportion  of  plain,  ill-dressed  women  are  left  to  be  old 
maids.  Such  women  are  often  laughed  at  by  the 
thoughtless,  but  that  is  not  on  account  of  their  crotchets. 
The  reason  that  the  crotchets  of  married  women  are 
less  noticed  is  because  they  live  in  a  home  which  they 
plan  themselves,  while  maiden  ladies  have  to  be  fitted 
into  odd  corners  in  other  people's  homes.  Perhaps 
there  are  as  many  married  women,  for  example,  de- 
voted to  a  parrot  or  a  poodle  as  there  are  old  maids, 
of  like  tastes ;  but  with  the  old  maids  the  animal  is 
made  the  centre  round  which  life  revolves  just  be- 
cause there  is  no  human  being  on  whom  its  owner  is 
free  to  lavish  as  many  caresses  as  she  would  like.  Crotch- 
ets are  either  funny  or  exasperating  to  everybody  but 
the  person  they  characterize  j  but  when  their  genesis  is 
traced,  they  often  become  pathetic. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  hard  for  a  single  woman  to  avoid 
oddity.  She  is  often  chained  to  conventionality  by 
timidity.  She  is  not  sure  that  any  one  really  cares 
about  her  bright  ideas.  Enforced  conventionality  with 
inward  rebellion  produces  an  odd  result.  It  is  a  trite 
remark  that  "  we  "  can  accomplish  everything,  while  "  I  " 
can  do  nothing;  and  single  women  have  great  temp- 
tations to  discouragement,  sometimes  even  to  envy.  A 
maiden  lady  can  hardly  advocate  a  needed  reform  without 
hearing  it  called  a  chimera  fit  for  old  maids.  She  can 
hardly  praise  a  great  man  without  hearing  him  decried 


CHARACTER.  243 

because  old  maids  admire  him.  If  she  is  quick-witted 
enough  to  perceive  such  judgments  and  therefore  to 
suppress  her  opinions,  she  always  appears  odd,  because 
her  real  self  is  at  variance  with  her  exterior,  and  the 
moment  she  is  aware  she  is  odd,  she  becomes  odder 
than  ever.  A  woman  must  have  confidence  not  only 
in  her  opinions  but  in  her  power  to  please,  even  to 
speak  with  authority.  One  who  stands  completely  alone 
in  the  world  cannot  always  have  that  confidence.  A 
friend  says  that  a  woman  who  has  to  buffet  the  world 
alone  always  shows  marks  of  it.  She  either  becomes 
too  self-assertive,  or  morbidly  sensitive  and  timid.  We 
all  know  both  the  masculine  and  the  ultra-feminine  type. 
Perhaps  we  do  not  like  either  of  them  very  well.  We 
wonder  not  only  at  their  want  of  grace,  but  at  their  want 
of  common-sense.  Yet  perhaps  both  are  accounted 
for  by  the  fact  that  such  women  so  often  have  to  do  a 
man's  work  with  a  woman's  limitations.  The  most 
perfectly  rounded  character  is  moulded  only  from  a 
/////  life.  Growth  comes  from  living,  not  from  stagna- 
tion. Luckily,  we  live  from  within,  and  not  from 
without;  when  we  have  the  germ  of  life  within  us,  there 
are  no  circumstances  from  which  it  does  not  draw 
nourishment.  I  have  never  found  it  possible  to  believe 
that  the  right  idea  of  life  does  not  include  happiness, 
and  so  I  find  myself  obliged  to  agree  to  the  paradox 
that  though  happiness  is  not  the  chief  end  to  seek,  it  is 


244  THK    UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

an  end  we  are  sure  to  find  sooner  or  later  according  to 
our  faithfulness  to  our  aspirations. 

The  philosophy  of  character,  and  probably  inciden- 
tally of  happiness,  is  in  keeping  our  true  relations  to  the 
life  above  us,  to  that  on  our  own  level,  and  to  that 
below  us.  Wilhelm  Meister  defines  the  three  kinds  of 
religion  as  reverence  for  that  which  is  over  us,  for  that 
which  is  like  us,  and  for  that  which  is  beneath  us. 

Now  marriage  inevitably  affords  training  in  the  two 
latter  relations.  The  more  ardently  we  love  our  equals, 
the  more  quickly  we  learn  the  lessons  of  justice,  for- 
bearance, and  mutual  help.  The  happy  married  women, 
in  whose  case  the  close  companionship  of  a  lifetime 
only  exalts  every  pleasure,  learn  their  lessons  unawares. 
But  the  unhappy  wives,  to  whom  their  relation  is  irksome 
in  the  highest  degree,  can  hardly  escape  learning  part 
of  the  lessons.  They  must  be  just,  they  must  be  for- 
bearing, they  must  help,  and  they  must  share  both 
pleasure  and  pain  with  another  whether  they  will  or  no, 
unless  they  are  willing  to  sit  down  tamely  and  see  their 
lives  go  to  wreck.  Few  are  so  indolent  as  to  do  this  ; 
and  most  are  urged  on  by  something  more  potent  than 
the  spur  of  necessity.  A  married  woman,  once  in  her 
life  at  least,  chooses  her  own  environment.  It  is 
easier  to  conform  to  our  own  choice  than  to  adapt  our- 
selves to  the  unavoidable.  The  husband  may  turn  out 
to   be   a   scamp ;    but  there  is  a  time,    however   short, 


CHARACTER.  245 

when  he  is  transfigured  by  the  light  of  the  ideal,  and  in 
the  attempt  to  fit  herself  to  him,  the  wife  must  gain 
something  in  character.  She  cannot  possibly  shut  her- 
self up  alone  in  utter  selfishness,  as  a  single  woman  who 
finds  her  natural  companions  uncongenial  may  some- 
times do.  Indeed,  she  does  not  wish  to  do  so,  or  why 
should  she  have  married  at  all?  She  will  sometimes 
try,  however  feebly  and  waveringly,  to  go  out  of  herself. 

A  thoroughly  selfish  girl  is  at  first  attracted  by  a  man 
who  loves  her,  because  of  what  she  receives  from  him ; 
but  gradually  she  begins  to  wish  to  please  her  lover  by 
doing  him  some  service  in  return,  and  from  this  weak 
germ  real  love  begins  to  grow.  If  a  woman  is  selfish, 
and  her  husband  is  a  tyrant,  her  bitter  lessons  will  be 
learned  by  force ;  but  it  will  be  impossible  for  her  to 
shirk  them ;  and  for  a  while,  at  least,  she  will  probably 
justify  her  marriage  to  herself  by  making  some  attempt 
to  learn  them. 

A  single  woman,  even  when  she  misses  the  highest 
happiness,  has  no  such  abyss  of  suffering  to  fear.  Some 
maiden  ladies,  accordingly,  metaphorically  cross  them- 
selves whenever  they  hear  of  a  divorce  case,  and  thank 
Heaven  that  they  have  never  been  ensnared  in  the 
matrimonial  web.  Still  they  have  a  temptation  of  their 
own  which  must  not  be  ignored.  They  may  not  learn 
their  true  relations  to  their  equals  at  all.  As  they  are 
so  happy  as  to  be  exempt  from  force,  they  can  learn 


246  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

them  only  from  love.  Can  we  actively  choose  to  be 
large-hearted,  if  such  a  temperament  is  denied  us? 
Most  of  us,  alas  !  are  incapable  of  this ;  but  we  all  have 
opportunities  to  put  ourselves  into  those  close  relation- 
ships which  develop  our  powers.  We  can  welcome  even 
severe  discipline  which  forces  us  out  of  ourselves.  Such 
a  bud  may  be  very  hard,  but  it  will  open  at  last  into  a 
flower. 

Single  women  seldom  fail  to  observe  the  letter  of  the 
law  of  love  which  says  we  are  to  give  to  others  ;  but  when 
they  are  so  unhappy  as  to  have  no  one  near  and  dear 
with  a  claim  upon  them,  their  interpretation  of  the  law 
tends  to  grow  narrower  and  narrower.  Their  own  little 
tastes  are  magnified  in  importance ;  they  must  sit  in 
their  own  special  easy-chair,  and  drink  from  their  own 
special  cup.  If  they  are  studious,  their  studies  are  of 
more  importance  than  all  the  world  around  them.  If 
they  are  fond  of  music,  they  will  not  miss  a  symphony 
concert,  even  if  they  know  that  a  lonely  friend  needs 
them.  Their  nerves  gain  more  and  more  sway  over 
them,  and  everybody  must  conform  to  their  fancies. 
There  are  those  who  are  tempted  to  feel  themselves  ill- 
used  when  one  of  their  kindred  becomes  dependent 
upon  them,  and  sometimes  this  does  befall  through  in- 
justice ;  but  even  then  there  have  been  cases  where  the 
necessity  of  caring  for  others  has  so  awakened  the  dor- 
mant love  of  the  worker  that  she  has  joyfully  acknowl- 
edged the  burden  as  a  precious  trust. 


CHARACTER.  247 

Yet  who  but  an  ascetic  values  discipline  simply  as 
discipline?  A  sweet  and  lively  girl,  having  been  brought 
under  the  influence  of  a  prominent  evangelist,  became 
"  converted ;  "  and  sincerely  wishing  to  lead  a  life 
which  should  have  meaning  in  it,  she  told  a  friend  that 
she  thought  she  should  like  to  marry  a  minister.  She 
thought  it  would  steady  her  to  live  with  one  whose 
whole  attention  was  given  to  religion.  Yet  when,  in 
the  course  of  time,  a  young  divine  offered  himself  to 
her,  his  profession  caused  her  such  dismay  that  she 
would  have  refused  him  if  she  had  not  loved  him  dearly. 
She  proved  a  model  minister's  wife  in  the  end ;  but  it  is 
clear  that  if  she  had  married  simply  for  discipline,  with- 
out the  love,  she  would  have  been  in  full  revolt  in  three 
months.  Her  early  wish  was  rather  sentimental.  It 
was  like  another  wish  of  hers,  caused  by  noticing  how 
much  a  friend's  nature  had  been  deepened  by  sorrow. 
"  I  have  never  had  any  trouble  in  my  life,"  she  said 
enviously.  "If  I  could  only  lose  a  friend,  I  am  sure 
it  would  improve  my  character  !  "  Those  of  us  who 
have  come  to  years  of  discretion  know  that  we  need 
not  seek  discipline.  There  is  always  enough  trouble  to 
develop  all  of  us.  Our  part  is  the  making  the  most  of 
every  opportunity,  both  of  joy  and  pain. 

Self-inflicted  discipline  is  seldom  a  blessing.  The 
joyous  giving  of  ourselves  because  we  love  to  give  is 
quite    another   thing.     "To  love,"   says  the   author    of 


248  THE   UNMARRIED    WOMAN. 

"  Gravenhurst,"  "  is  the  great  glory,  the  last  culture,  the 
highest  happiness;  to  be  loved  is  little  in  comparison." 

We  dream  that  it  is  the  wife  who  enters  into  this 
great  glory  of  love.  So  it  is  sometimes,  but  not  always. 
The  unmarried  woman  looks  about  with  a  sinking  heart, 
as  she  sees  how  few  marriages  meet  her  own  tests.  If 
she  is  large-hearted,  she  often  has  a  far  better  chance 
to  pour  out  an  unstinted  love  on  worthy  objects  than 
her  married  sister  has. 

The  love  of  our  equals  teaches  us  justice  in  the  largest 
sense.  It  teaches  us  sympathy  too.  No  woman  can 
do  without  dear  friends  of  her  own  age,  position,  and 
tastes.  The  wife  has  one  friend ;  the  single  woman 
must  not  rest  content  till  she  has  found  at  least  one. 

But  the  most  completely  self- forgetful  love  is  that  of 
the  mother  for  her  child.  Even  where  the  marriage 
is  far  from  ideal,  the  sweetness  and  helplessness  of 
children  make  an  appeal  to  the  mother  which  is  not 
to  be  withstood.  It  must  be  hard,  indeed,  for  a  mar- 
ried woman  to  be  entirely  selfish.  The  claims  of  a 
child  are  continual.  Even  its  reasonable  claims  are 
made  by  night  as  by  day,  and  whether  the  mother  her- 
self is  well  or  ill.  They  cannot  be  put  aside,  however 
bad-tempered  the  mother  may  be.  It  is  true  the  rich 
often  delegate  their  duties  to  others,  but  the  duties  must 
be  done  by  some  one.  Such  incessant  care,  which 
would  be  almost  unendurable  without  the  love  that  goes 


CHARACTER.  249 

with  it,  with  the  love  is  a  delight.  The  mother's  love 
is  without  thought  of  reward ;  and  though  children  give 
back  love  in  return,  they  never  do  it  from  a  sense  of 
duty.  The  mother's  love  teaches  perfect  sympathy 
with  those  below  her.  It  teaches  generosity  and  ready 
helpfulness  towards  the  helpless.  All  mothers  do  not 
learn  the  lesson  perfectly.  Many  unmarried  women 
learn  it  in  a  greater  measure  ;  but  the  mothers  learn 
it  oftener.  A  childless  woman,  who  has  a  clear  vision, 
will  see  that  she  must  be  alive  to  every  opportunity  to 
fulfil  a  real  claim  made  by  any  helpless  creature  upon 
her,  if  she  wishes  to  approach  the  beautiful  self-forget- 
fulness  she  sees  in  so  many  mothers.  But  it  will  not 
be  an  easy  task.  It  takes  an  overwhelming  love  to 
carry  us  over  all  the  drudgery  before  us.  How  can  we 
love  everybody?  We  may  love  all  in  a  general,  luke- 
warm way,  wishing  them  well  and  doing  them  little 
favours  which  do  not  cost  us  much  trouble.  We  may 
be  above  hurting  a  fly,  or  even  an  enemy  who  has  hurt 
us ;  but  that  is  not  the  love  which  takes  us  up  out  of 
ourselves,  and  gives  a  peculiar  delight  and  zest  to  pain 
and  weariness,  and  makes  suffering  for  one  we  love 
better  than  any  kind  of  happiness  for  ourselves  alone. 
What  shall  we  do? 

Will  not  all  thoughtful  observers  bear  me  out  in  this, 
—  that  if  we  open  our  hearts  fully  to  the  love  of  the  child, 
or  the  dependant  who  is  already  near  and  dear  to  us, 


250  THE    UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

the  love  grows  into  almost  as  splendid  a  plant  as  the 
love  of  a  mother  for  her  child ;  while  if  we  are  con- 
tented with  simply  doing  our  duty,  the  love  dwindles 
and  the  obligation  becomes  irksome?  So  with  our 
equals,  if  we  use  our  friend  for  our  own  pleasure,  in- 
stead of  spending  ourselves  for  her,  the  friendship  dies 
out,  —  that  is,  on  our  own  part. 

It  may  seem  to  some  one  that  I  am  calling  on  un- 
married women  to  lift  themselves  above  themselves,  if 
they  would  have  even  the  chance  of  the  higher  life 
which  opens  naturally  to  the  married ;  as  if  I  were 
quoting  the  Oriental  dogma  that  "  Marriage  is  promo- 
tion," and  requiring  the  unmarried  to  reach  an  unnat- 
urally high  level  by  their  own  unaided  exertions.  And 
yet  this  is  not  true. 

The  relation  on  which  all  other  relations  depend  is 
the  relation  to  the  Power  above  us.  We  call  it  God, 
or  we  call  it  Goodness ;  but  it  is  the  same  for  every 
one  of  us.  The  power  is  inexhaustible ;  the  spring 
refreshes  all  comers. 

All  peculiar  circumstances  make  a  special  demand 
on  character,  and  furnish  opportunities  for  special 
virtues.  The  married  have  their  temptations,  and  the 
unmarried  theirs.  Serenity,  for  example,  is  easier  to 
the  single  than  to  the  married;  for,  as  Mrs.  Browning 
says,    "Who    at    once    can    love    and    rest?"    and    yet 


CHARACTER. 


251 


a  living  serenity  is  harder  for  the  unmarried,  for  that 
must  always  be  quickened  by  love,  and  love  is  not 
always  at  hand.     Yet  a  living  serenity  is  essential  to  us. 

None  of  us  can  know  beforehand  where  our  weak- 
nesses lie.  Neither  men  nor  women  can  measure  their 
own  strength,  and  say  how  they  can  bear  either  a 
married  or  a  single  life.  But  if  the  relation  of  any 
human  being  to  God  is  the  true  one,  it  involves  sooner 
or  later  true  relations  to  all  other  creatures.  We  do 
not  lift  ourselves  up  ;  but  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  lifted 
by  an  unfailing  power.  Miss  Susan  Blow,  in  her  won- 
derful Dante  lectures  in  St.  Louis,  said :  '•'  All  duties 
grow  out  of  essential  relationships,  and  all  sins  are 
greater  or  less  violations  of  more  or  less  essential  rela- 
tionships. All  secondary  relationships  are  of  course 
grounded  in  the  primary  relationship ;  hence  the  germ 
of  all  good  or  evil  to  man  lies  in  his  relationship  to 
God." 

We  climb,  like  Dante,  to  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
but  we  rise  higher  still  by  the  wings  which  are  not  ours. 
Better  still,  when  we  lose  ourselves  in  the  love  of  God, 
the  light  of  that  love  so  illumines  and  warms  us  that 
all  the  waste  and  desert  places  around  and  below  us 
glow  with  it,  and  we  no  longer  find  it  hard  to  be  what 
we  wish  we  could  be  to  tnose  who  stand  beside  us 
or  to  those  who  look  up  to  us  from  below. 

It  is  common  in  these  days  to  begin  with  love  of 


252  THE   UNMARRIED   WOMAN. 

man,  and  struggle  upward  to  the  love  of  God.  George 
Eliot  said  she  had  no  faith  in  any  religion  which  did 
not  begin  with  love  of  our  fellow-creatures.  No  doubt 
love  of  God  and  man  are  inextricably  connected,  as  in 
the  two  commandments  of  Christ ;  but  some  will  always 
begin  their  conscious  life  with  love  of  God,  while  others 
as  surely  begin  with  love  of  man. 

When  the  higher  love  is  most  perfect,  we  realize  that 
it  cannot  of  itself  be  enough.  We  must  love  human 
beings,  and  that  not  merely  in  a  general  way.  Hearty 
personal  love  is  indispensable,  —  and  to  both  men  and 
women.  Has  a  thoroughly  beautiful  life  ever  been  lived 
by  any  one  whose  ideal  was  not  true  to  both  "  the 
kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home"? 

For  those  who  have  none  of  the  great  loves  which 
are  the  foundation  of  the  home,  there  are  two  dangers  : 
there  is  sometimes  a  feverish  longing  to  accomplish 
some  conspicuous  and  definite  work  which  shall  estab- 
lish our  right  to  live  in  the  world  that  is  usually  so 
indifferent  to  us ;  and  sometimes,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  a  lassitude  and  hopelessness  which  make  us 
feel  that  we  can  do  nothing  of  the  slightest  importance 
to  any  human  being.     Then 

"  Higher  far 
Thou  must  mount  for  love." 

That  is  the  hope  we  get  from  Emerson.     The  doctrine 

sometimes  seems  too  hard,  as  if  the  high  air  were  too 


CHARACTER.  253 

much  rarefied  for  a  weak,  struggling  woman,  reaching 
out  for  visible  and  tangible  help.  We  think  our  life  is 
on  the  flats,  and  not  on  the  mountain- tops.  Neverthe- 
less, we  do  not  really  live  till  we  look  up.  George 
Herbert  tells  us  the  truth, — 

"  A  grain  of  glory,  mixed  with  humbleness, 
Cures  both  a  fever  and  lethargicness." 


THE    END. 


